Innocent Hopes, Twisted Realities
by VigoGrimborne
Summary: A near brush with death gave Hiccup a prosthetic leg and an overprotective friend. But Toothless's paranoia is abruptly both magnified and rendered insignificant by the horrific results of a quick vacation. Fear and paranoia are suddenly very justifiable, very necessary things. The world is old, and not everything buried in the past is harmless. Some psychological horror.
1. Dissonance

It was so strange. Hiccup reflected on that as he sat up, absent-mindedly rubbing sleep from his eyes. A greeting warble sounded from somewhere slightly low and to the left. "Good morning Toothless."

That was part of it. His best friend, the one he had made so relatively recently. Before his, as he sometimes put it, 'involuntary winter hibernation', Toothless was Berkian enemy number one. He had beaten out Alvin and The Outcasts for that title, by virtue of being the most dangerous dragon no one had ever seen. Now he was... tolerated. Even revered at first. That level of exuberance had very quickly faded, from what Hiccup could tell. But Toothless was still the favorite dragon of the village.

Hiccup laboriously strapped his new prosthetic leg on, wincing at the pressure on his still uncalloused stump. "I'm fine." That was said to reassure Toothless, who had somehow managed to cross the small room and stick his head onto the bed next to Hiccup, whining softly. "It just hurts a little."

Toothless eyed the stump doubtfully. He opened his mouth and inched forward, clearly intent on licking it. That toothless expression was one Hiccup had seen quite often recently. He didn't even bother trying to avoid it. In truth, the wet pressure did sooth the aches, most of the time.

The stump was another part of the strangeness he felt now.

Hiccup eventually passed Toothless's worried inspection and was allowed to walk on his peg leg. He smiled at the still slightly concerned expression on his friend's face, wobbling only slightly as he stood. The trip down the stairs might have been tricky... if Toothless counted stairs as walking. He did not, so Hiccup was carried bodily down them. Anything his friend saw as a danger was swiftly dealt with. Stairs included.

It was a bit annoying at times, but Hiccup really couldn't begrudge his only real friend that.

That was another thing, Hiccup realized as he made his way through the village. Another piece of the answer as to why he couldn't shake the feeling hounding him. For fifteen years, no one cared. Which, while recently a blessing, had been the exact opposite for most of his life. It was a big part of why events had turned out the way they did. And now that he had one true friend, one who had actually stuck with him the entire time they had known each other, save for a few... incidents right when they met, now, when he had finally felt he didn't really need the approval of the village...

"Hey look, it's Hiccup!" The cheers of the villagers followed him through Berk. He knew that if he stayed, if he lingered, they'd drop whatever they were doing and make conversation. So he kept walking, avoiding eye contact.

Toothless bristled a tiny bit at every happy and inviting shout. He walked as if guarding Hiccup.

Hiccup reflected darkly that Toothless might have a bit of a problem. But in all honesty, he didn't really mind. Everyone seemed determined to put the past behind them. To pretend he had always been one of them.

He couldn't find it in himself yet to do the same. It had only been two weeks, for him. Two weeks since he woke up down a leg, up an overprotective friend, and apparently the village hero. As opposed to the village screw-up. Maybe it would feel right in time. But they had months to adjust. For him, this was new.

So he walked as he used to, head down, moving quickly. To avoid attention. The dragon by his side who had quickly gained a reputation for snarling at anyone who came close likely did more to dissuade a crowd of screaming fans than anything else.

The arena. Hiccup and Toothless both stopped just outside. Toothless was more uncomfortable here than anywhere else in the village. It showed very subtly, and no one could see it. Except for Hiccup. He could read that tenseness in Toothless's shoulders. The ears that were alert not out of curiosity but wariness. The nostrils dilated, smelling for danger. The way Toothless cast glances at Hiccup every five seconds. The arena was not a place of happy memories.

For either of them. Which was why they both stopped outside, waiting. The sounds of bickering from within were normal. The other teens, who had apparently taken on the task of dealing with the dragons peacefully, were rarely in agreement about anything.

Hiccup slumped against the stone wall. He wasn't tired, physically at least. That had mostly faded. But this place sucked all of the motivation out of him.

Toothless rumbled consolingly, wrapping himself around Hiccup, creating a living blockade from the rest of the world. His head faced outward, looking for danger, but care was clear in the way he had settled, intentionally avoiding trapping Hiccup too tightly against the stone.

Hiccup forced a smile. "You know, you're acting like a mother hen." He tapped on the encircling black muscle and scale. "I'm not that fragile."

Toothless looked back, craning his neck to make eye contact. He snorted, looking away after a moment.

Hiccup sighed as Toothless relaxed ever so slightly. This really was a problem. Protective was fine, but he wasn't in any danger here. Toothless was probably picking up on his unsettled feelings. Whether or not Hiccup should feel unsettled.

Why couldn't he help it? That question was nagging at him today. This was home, it always had been. Sure, things were weird now, but in a good way. He should be excitedly embracing all of this, like he had done that first day, waking up to an exuberant Toothless, happy Stoick, and affectionate Astrid.

That feeling had faded shortly after whatever pain-reducing herbs Gothi had put him on wore off. Yeah, that had been fun. As it turned out, his stump had still been pretty raw. After flying around like a madman for a few hours? Even more so.

A half-hearted growl brought Hiccup back to the present. He was glad Toothless wasn't so tightly wound at the moment. Half-hearted was better than full-on threatening.

"Hey, just minding my own business here!" Hiccup could hear Snotlout, but he couldn't see him due to Toothless's now flared wings. "Hiccup, are you in there, or is your crazy bodyguard just messing with me?"

That aggravated Hiccup more than he could consciously express. He stood, staring at Snotlout. "He's not a bodyguard."

The entire group had come out of the arena. Tuffnut, who was at the back, shrugged. "He guards you."

"Bodily," Ruffnut smirked. "Bodyguard seems like an accurate description to me."

Hiccup shook his head. "No." He stepped over Toothless's tail, escaping his friend's protective blockade.

Toothless rumbled uncomfortably, quickly getting up to stand by Hiccup's side, eyeing the teens warily. Even Astrid, who was watching with an odd look on her face.

"Uhh... they've got a point." Fishlegs nervously shifted as Toothless's wary glare turned to him. "He doesn't really do anything else."

Hiccup groaned, exasperated. "He does, just not..." Not here. Not in the village, a place that he apparently hadn't warmed up to despite spending months in. "Not here."

Astrid seemed to decide the conversation was over. She rounded on Snotlout. "We have work to do."

Snotlout grinned. "Yeah! And as your second in command-"

"Nope." Astrid cut him off neutrally. "Fishlegs is. Anyway, you know what you're supposed to be doing, right?" That was addressed to everyone.

The twins grinned, headbutting each other. Snotlout grumbled before nodding. Fishlegs smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Good. Get to it. I'll catch up in a second." Astrid stood there until the four teens left. Then she turned to Hiccup. "I know you don't like to hear that. But they aren't... wrong."

"You too, Astrid?" Hiccup put a hand on Toothless's head. "You should know better." Although, upon reflection, she really hadn't gotten a chance to see Toothless doing anything else either. Still, he had thought she would understand.

Astrid frowned. "None of the other dragons act like this." She gestured to Toothless, who was alternating between surveying the village and watching her. It might have been subtle, but his ears kept flicking back and forth, signaling where his attention was at any given moment. "Stormfly isn't glued to me. None of the other dragons are."

Hiccup didn't answer. He had no real answer. She was right, it wasn't healthy. For either of them, really.

But Astrid interpreted his answer as stubborn refusal to concede. "You can't seriously think this is normal! You weren't really awake to see it, but he almost starved himself watching over you. If it wasn't for us bringing food..." She looked down for a moment, before continuing in a softer tone. "It's not-"

Hiccup cut her off with a sarcastic laugh. "No, not at all normal for someone to really care about me."

Astrid's jaw dropped, and she stared at him, a combination of hurt and anger visibly playing across her features.

In that moment, Hiccup knew he had gone too far. "I didn't mean it like that." Although a part of him did. "You care, Stoick cares, in his own way. It's a bit extreme, how Toothless is acting. I agree. But you need to give him time." That he was sure of.

"It's been months-"

"Of watching me lie in bed and not move." Hiccup put a hand on Toothless's head. "I think a little overprotectiveness is understandable. I'm working on it."

Astrid shrugged, turning away. "Good. Because as it stands, he's going to hurt someone." She seemingly idly put a hand to her ax, eliciting a warning growl from Toothless. "See? Even I can't draw a weapon around you. We're Vikings, eventually someone is going to do something stupid."

Hiccup personally thought that Astrid might not be a good baseline for measuring Toothless's reactions. She had kind of slammed said ax's handle into his stomach in front of Toothless. She also had a habit of dealing out 'friendly' punches. Toothless was likely expecting violence from her more than most. He couldn't come up with a response before she was gone, disappearing between two houses.

"She's right, bud." Hiccup made eye contact with Toothless. "This isn't safe."

Bad choice of words. All Toothless heard was 'safe'. The result of that being that Hiccup was forced to wait as his friend quickly and frantically searched the area, looking for anything dangerous.

"Toothless!" Hiccup had to shout to get his attention. "Not what I meant."

Toothless returned to his side, staring at him inquisitively.

"What I mean is, there's nothing dangerous here." Hiccup reconsidered. "Well, nothing that dangerous. You don't need to be on alert all the time."

Toothless whined, clearly not agreeing.

Okay, reasoning was out. Hiccup began the trek into the village, searching his mind for a way to get Toothless to let up a little. It didn't help that, seen from the dragon's perspective, the village was a legitimately scary place. On that five minute walk, Hiccup noticed ten weapons carried at the ready, unsheathed and capable of being used in an instant. He also saw Toothless watch each one until it was entirely out of sight. Not to mention, to Toothless every Viking around must look colossal. Compared to Hiccup, anyway.

That might be part of the problem. Hiccup grimaced, changing destinations on a whim. Toothless, as well-meaning as he was, must see him as extremely vulnerable. Small, freshly missing a leg, no weapon or natural defenses. He couldn't help the first, the second would improve in time. The third, however...

"Come on in." Hiccup sarcastically held the door open for Toothless, ushering him in first. He tried not to laugh at the shocked bark that emanated from the armory a second later.

Upon entering, Hiccup saw what everyone did when going into the armory. Barrels, racks, shelves, and random piles of every weapon known to Vikings, and a few that weren't. All village property, for use in the raids. The building was deceptively small on the inside, thanks to the crowding of sharp and blunt metal objects in every corner.

Hiccup very deliberately moved around the room, putting a hand on each weapon. He was gauging Toothless's reaction. Mace? A deep-throated growl. Hammer? Same thing. Not that Hiccup liked those particular weapons anyway. All blunt and no tact.

Sword? Less anger in the growl, but still concerned. Hiccup began to lose hope as he rounded the room. Nothing met Toothless's approval. Though he wasn't sure if Toothless understood what he was getting at.

Then he put his hand on a long hunting knife, just short enough to not be considered a short sword. He almost dropped it at the croon of approval his action elicited from Toothless. "Seriously?" He picked it up again. "You don't mind?"

Toothless warbled curiously, tilting his head.

"Okay..." Hiccup needed to be sure Toothless got the point. He turned the blade to point at his own chest and shook his head. The snarl he was expecting was not late in coming. Good so far. Then he turned it to face outward, holding it defensively.

Toothless warbled, purring now.

"You do understand." Hiccup couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. "So now I'm not defenseless." He picked up a sheath, and hooked it into his belt, sliding the knife in. "Maybe loosen up a bit?"

Toothless chuffed. Then he nodded his head towards the pile of knives Hiccup had gotten the long one from. There were a dozen or so, in various sizes.

Hiccup could remember forging a few of those knives, actually. "What? I can take it, the village doesn't need dragon-fighting reserve weapons anymore." Gobber had actually been talking about melting down some of the extra weapons now. Berk had a few human enemies, but fighting humans didn't require ten weapon replacements for every Viking, as dragon-fighting so often did over the course of a raid. The knife wouldn't be missed.

That, however, was not the point Toothless had been trying to make. He made his position clear by very carefully grabbing a hilt that was poking out and pulling the knife, holding it for a moment before laying it at Hiccup's feet.

"Oh." Hiccup wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or flattered that Toothless wanted him to take another one. "Sure, I can do that." He grabbed it, and another sheath.

The problem became apparent when Toothless promptly pulled a third knife from the pile, grinning happily.

Hiccup looked at the pile, and then at his friend, who was relaxing even as he put his hand towards the third knife. Quite a change from when Toothless made him toss his only knife into the pond. "The things I do for you..."

O-O-O-O-O

"Eh, Hiccup?" Gobber was giving him a very confused look. "Is there somethin' I should know? Ye look like yer goin' off to fight a war. By yerself."

Hiccup sighed, going back to the leather he was working on. Toothless was nearby, watching from an unused corner of the blacksmith's shop. He knew he made quite the sight, ten knife sheaths arrayed in front of him, along with two subtly attached to his belt. "Not really."

"So why the sudden interest in pointy things for personal use?" Gobber smirked. "Ye seem like more o' a fire and claw guy." He gestured to Toothless.

"That's why, I think." Hiccup spoke absent-mindedly, sewing two pieces of leather together. "He seems to consider them my version of claws. And he has quite a few, so I should too, apparently." That was said wryly.

"Yer sayin'..?" Gobber waved his hook arm aimlessly, clearly lost. "What, exactly?"

Hiccup pointed at Toothless. "Notice anything odd about this?"

After a moment, Gobber nodded. "Aye, he's usually up and growling in my face by now. And always within two yards, usually." He looked at Toothless, who while clearly alert was only watching carefully. "What did ye do?"

"These", Hiccup gestured to the weapons in front of him, "are my claws, in his mind. I'm not defenseless anymore. So he doesn't feel quite the same need to threaten immediate bodily harm on my behalf, from what I can tell."

Gobber stared at the array of weapons. "Eh, wouldn't one or two be good?"

"Yes. But according to him, I need at least twelve." Hiccup groaned sarcastically. "So now I need a way to carry that many knives around. Hence all of this." He gestured to the assorted leather across the table.

"How does it all work?" Gobber picked up a piece of leather about two feet long and a foot wide, with a strange shape cut out of it. "What is this?"

Hiccup smirked. "A leftover piece." He stood, and grabbed a sheath. "I just finished. Watch this." He began strapping the leather on in various places. One sheath to either hip, making two total on both sides, four on his back, two down the outside of either leg, two small ones on his upper arms, and one slid into a new slot in his boot. He smiled as he held up the twelfth knife, the only one now without a place. "This one was fun."

Hiccup pulled aside a pile of parchment and revealed a new prosthetic foot, along with more leather. "This foot is pretty much the same..." Hiccup held it up, showing Gobber a subtly longer wooden base than necessary. One with a slightly elongated cup.

Gobber smiled as Hiccup slid the final knife into the slot, handle and all. "Clever." Hiccup proceeded to replace the prosthetic, standing on it. The knife was hilt-up in the actual wooden base of the leg, entirely invisible and inaccessible unless the foot was removed. "Not so easy ta get to."

"No, but it's a last resort kind of thing." Hiccup proceeded to pull on the last of the leather, which was apparently a simple set of leather armor, from chestpiece to pauldrons. "I've also added a few pockets, for things like needle and thread, in case Toothless's tailfin tears. And this so I don't look like a lunatic. What do you think?"

Gobber nodded after a moment. "Ye look like a scrawny Viking with leather armor. Certainly not one armed to the teeth." The various sheaths blended in well with the leather armor, and the hilts were subtle. "It's a bit disturbin' really."

Toothless barked, moving over to inspect Hiccup. After a moment, he warbled happily.

Hiccup smiled. "Maybe. But it works."

O-O-O-O-O

If only. Hiccup groaned, sitting up. "Bud, I thought we had agreed." He very deliberately put a hand on one of the many hilts within reach. "I carry these, you stop threatening everyone within ten feet."

Toothless whined apologetically, before growling at the villager who had run up with an ax. He did seem to regret knocking Hiccup over in an attempt to shield him from the perceived attack, which Hiccup considered an improvement. A minor one, but still.

Hiccup turned to address the overworked villager. "Yes?" He gestured dramatically at Toothless, who was still eyeing the ax. "It must be pretty important to risk that."

The villager frowned, eyes narrowing. "But I thought dragons weren't gonna fight us anymore?"

"That doesn't mean run at them with an ax over your head."

"Eh, whatever." The villager turned and pointed at the docks. "Stoick wanted you."

Hiccup sighed. "Thanks." Stoick did tend to inspire that kind of blind enthusiasm. He turned to Toothless. "Think you can remember that I'm armed and dangerous?"

Toothless snorted before padding off towards the docks, which the villager had helpfully pointed out earlier. His nonchalant attitude was spoiled by the fact that he stopped and looked back after approximately three seconds, to make sure Hiccup was following.

As they walked, Hiccup considered what had just happened. Toothless was still too jumpy. It might be the village itself causing that. Thinking about it, Toothless was used to solitude. Definitely not random Vikings running around all the time.

With that thought, something clicked in Hiccup's head. Toothless needed to break from all of this. They could barely go flying as it was, Hiccup's stump still healing. So until his stump healed, Toothless was stuck in Berk.

Hiccup caught up to Toothless. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're stuck here."

Toothless shook his head, growling softly.

"It is." Hiccup paused. "Tell you what. When we can fly again, we can take a break from all of this for a few days."

Toothless stopped mid-step, turning back to gawk at Hiccup, a hopeful expression on his face.

Hiccup laughed, overtaking his friend. "Not permanently. Just a vacation, of sorts." Hopefully, that would do them both good, upon further consideration. Time away from all of this...

"Ah, Hiccup!" Stoick smiled warmly. "Glad to see you could find time in your busy schedule to join us!"

Odd. Stoick knew very well that Hiccup had absolutely nothing to do, at least until his stump recovered enough for walking to be viable on a daily basis. The little he had done so far today was already causing quite a bit of pain. In fact... He subtly leaned on Toothless while taking in the surroundings.

The reason Stoick was being so enthusiastic was soon clear. Traders from another tribe had come to port, and several who were otherwise unoccupied had apparently decided to spend their time gawking. The stares of awe and fear were quite obvious. As were the whitened knuckles and hands on hilts of various weaponry. "Not that I don't love a situation that promises to explode into violence at any second, but was there a reason you wanted me here?"

Stoick frowned, before leaning in close, his voice lowering to what passed for a whisper among Vikings. "Not so much you, as you and your dragon. Intimidation is key to intertribal relations."

"Unless it makes them feel threatened." Hiccup gestured to Toothless. "And putting him in danger to intimidate them isn't a plan I like." A few of those Vikings were very clearly intent on Toothless now. It was obvious in the way they no longer occasionally glanced at other nearby dragons, focusing entirely on the Night Fury. The dragon every Viking in the archipelago would like nothing better than to kill.

Stoick scoffed, looking around. "Come on, it's not that dangerous. The way he's been acting recently, I'd think your dragon would like a chance to let off some steam, anyway."

Hiccup stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"Not entirely." Stoick was grinning. "But if anyone tried, they'd have to deal with the might of Berk. No one would dare."

"Really?" Hiccup eyed one Viking on particular, a somewhat weedy man with an oversized helmet and a crossbow. A loaded crossbow slowly being lifted to aim... "Some of them might dare. That guy's about to, I think." At odds with his calm words, Hiccup quickly moved in front of Toothless, who had not yet identified the crossbow as an immediate threat. In doing so, he blocked the man's line of sight.

Stoick, with all the subtlety of an avalanche, took matters into his own hands. Literally. In seconds, the man with a crossbow was no longer armed.

Hiccup watched as Stoick threatened the crossbowman with horrific death if he so much as pulled the trigger on it. Then, just to be sure, Stoick snapped the crossbow with his bare hands.

Toothless growled, backing up a few feet. He was still eyeing the other foreigners, who in turn were all splitting their attention between Stoick and Toothless.

"Yeah." Hiccup turned around, aware that his back was a perfect target if anyone cared enough to attack him. "We should probably go..."

They left the docks as casually as possible, to preserve Berk's image. That lasted until they were out of sight of the docks. Then they ran, to put some distance between them and the docks. Yeah, a vacation would be nice.

O-O-O-O-O

A week later, Hiccup decided his stump had healed. Enough, anyway. That night, he spoke to Stoick, Toothless as always at his side.

"Dad, I've been thinking..."

Stoick sighed. "Is this about those foreigners?" He was whittling at the table, shavings of wood flying off as he worked. "I taught them a lesson. And they left three days ago."

"No, not really." Hiccup shrugged uncomfortably. "But you were right, Toothless is a bit wound up. I was thinking about how to fix that."

"Ah, and you need my help?" Stoick grinned. "The great dragon trainer, coming to his old man for assistance."

Hiccup smirked. "No, actually. More your permission."

"For what?"

"I need to leave Berk for a while, so Toothless can unwind. I think not being able to leave the village is stressing him out, and my leg is finally good enough to do it."

Stoick didn't like that, as was evident by the increased rate at which wood shavings flew. "Why can't you just do whatever it is that got him this calm?"

Right. Hiccup realized that Stoick actually didn't know about all of that. "Because I don't know where I'd keep any more knives on me."

That was met with a stare. "What?"

Hiccup decided to explain, though that look of confusion was amusing. Instead of speaking, he proceeded to remove all of his knives and place them on the table, save for the one in his prosthetic. Stoick's jaw dropped a little at every knife past the third. "That's... excessive."

"Agreed." Hiccup began replacing them. "But they make me capable of protecting myself, at least in his eyes. That was part of it. Some time in the wilderness, alone, is the other, I think. Time away from crowds and Vikings who like to wave their weapons around."

"But you'll just come back soon anyway. So he'll have to deal with it again." Stoick frowned at Toothless, who returned the disapproving expression. "How will it fix anything?"

"I just think it will." Hiccup made eye contact, trying not to blink as an errant wood shaving hit him in the forehead. "So?"

"I don't think it'll help..." Stoick shifted. "But you can try. Be back within... say, three weeks."

Toothless chuffed, walking towards the door. He looked back hopefully at Hiccup.

Stoick laughed. "You should wait until morning, at least."

Hiccup shrugged. "This trip is for him. We might as well go now." With that, he and Toothless were out the door before Stoick could say anything. Off into the world.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Welcome readers, new and old, to** ** _Innocent Hopes, Twisted Realities._** **A few items of note.**

 **\- This story will update every Saturday. I am staggering updates so as to not dump three different updates at the same time, having three running stories.**

 **\- This story is complete. It will be posted on time come Hell or high water. It rounds out at just under 100,000 words, a total of twenty chapters and an epilogue.**

 **\- This story is** ** _Dark._** **Seriously, it is much darker than any of my previous works, bordering on psychological horror in some parts. Nothing above a strong T rating, but consider this fair warning. It is a story that is as twisted as the name implies.**

 **\- This is not a romance, and Hiccstrid simply doesn't exist. In this universe, Astrid kind of gets over her temporary crush on Hiccup in the days after his recovery. Before anyone accuses me of hating Astrid, let's just say that it's for the better in the long run of this story. If I hated or did not like Astrid, I'd leave her liking Hiccup, and let the plot... I can say no more.**

 **\- Finally, this is my first story with chapter names. They are indeed meaningful, though not always in the most literal way.**


	2. Miracles

They soared through the night, Toothless bringing them through the clouds, and up to that place in the sky where all that can be seen is the boundless stars above and the indistinct sea below, mottled with clouds made silver by the moonlight. They glided there, for a long time.

Hiccup felt no desire to sleep. This view was one he had only rarely seen. He regretted not sneaking away from the village in the middle of the night before. This was amazing.

Toothless was apparently taking them somewhere he knew. Hiccup, apart from keeping track of where they were in relation to Berk, didn't care about the destination. This really was Toothless's trip. Let him decide where they went.

And so the night passed, until in the early hours of the next morning, Toothless set down on a small, relatively nondescript island, a hunk of rock, dirt, and sand in the middle of the ocean.

Hiccup dismounted curiously, looking around to confirm what he had suspected. "This place is lifeless." No animals, no trees, not even any grass.

Toothless chuffed in agreement, curling up into a small ball on the sand, just above where the high tide would likely reach. Despite the fact that it was now almost morning, he seemed to be going to sleep.

Hiccup laughed. "Well, that's one way to relax." He was realizing why Toothless had brought them here. A place no one would ever go, for any reason. No reason except solitude. The exact opposite of the crowded and tense village they had been residing in. With nothing better to do, he leaned against Toothless's side and watched the ocean as the sun rose.

O-O-O-O-O

The next thing he knew, Hiccup was sprawled out on the sand, eyes closed. He sat up groggily, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Toothless, he realized as his vision cleared, was gnawing at...

"Bud, I can take it off if you want." Hiccup recognized this. Toothless would sometimes bite on the base of his tail, where his fin had been, for whatever reason. Always with no teeth, as if to put pressure on it more than anything else.

Toothless looked over with a plaintive expression, his eyes a bit narrower than normal, obviously uncomfortable.

Hiccup quickly removed the tailfin and the saddle for good measure. Once he was done, he examined the tailfin. More specifically, where the...

"What in Thor's name is..." Hiccup's hands moved of their own accord, feeling what he was sure he must be hallucinating. No, it was real. Small sprouts, growing out of what had been a flat strip of tail, where the fin had been shorn off all those weeks ago. They were thin, and he could feel a tiny bit of what might be membrane between them, as thin as a leaf. So small, so fragile. But very clearly new. Growing.

He looked over at Toothless, amazement crossing his features. "It's coming back."

Toothless chuffed, going back to gnawing on his tail. He didn't seem all that excited, though it clearly wasn't an entirely painless process, so he had good reason to be uncomfortable.

This realization, in turn, made Hiccup think back. Toothless had been doing this for weeks, even before the Red Death. And that hadn't been weeks, a fact that still slipped from his mind if he wasn't careful. No, that had been months. This had been going on for months. And only now was there anything visible.

This was going to take a long time, at the rate it was going. Months, years maybe. But it was still happening.

It was growing back. Toothless would eventually be whole again.

There was the briefest flash of envy in Hiccup's mind. His leg wasn't coming back. He stamped that feeling out with vigor as soon as he acknowledged it. This was no time to resent his friend. There was never a time for that.

Instead, he smiled, watching Toothless sooth the discomfort this minor miracle was bringing. "Well, I'd say that's a pretty small price to pay, all things considered."

O-O-O-O-O

Once Toothless had soothed his tail, Hiccup put the flight gear back on. The small growths, now that he knew they were there, made that a bit tricky, but for now they were too small to cause issues. It was a good thing they were going back to Berk after a few weeks. A new tailfin would need to be made, one that accommodated these slowly growing pieces. That was going to be tricky, but Hiccup thought he could do it. However, that was a task for later. His heart was light with the combination of this amazing discovery, and the slowly relaxing dragon he was traveling with.

They took off, and Hiccup once again threw caution to the winds, following Toothless's lead.

O-O-O-O-O

A larger island, this time. One with thick forest and animals. The animals, Hiccup soon learned, were why they were there.

Toothless stalked through the forest, visible from where Hiccup was following, a few dozen feet behind. Once he had understood why they were here, Hiccup had meant to stay on the beach. No need to ruin Toothless's hunt. But Toothless had refused to leave unless Hiccup was following him.

That made Hiccup smile. Sure, some of it was lingering worry and overprotectiveness, but he was pretty sure Toothless had another goal too. It had become obvious fairly quickly.

Toothless looked back at him, before pawing the grass in front of him. He leaned over, sniffing dramatically, before pointing his head off into the forest, eyes leading Hiccup on.

What better way to teach than by example? Toothless was clearly trying to teach Hiccup how to track, to hunt. A large deer, from what Hiccup could tell. He wasn't able to smell it, but the tracks were obvious and fresh.

So he followed his friend deeper into the forest, both creeping as silently as possible, occasionally stopping at some new piece of evidence that they were still on the right path. It took hours, but eventually Toothless happened upon a stream.

Hiccup watched from a good vantage point as Toothless crept up on the large buck that was drinking from the river. Silent. Hidden. Downwind. There was no way that deer even knew what was happening.

Toothless pounced, pinning the deer. Oddly, he didn't immediately kill it. Instead, he made eye contact with Hiccup and then gestured to the panicking animal trapped under his paws.

Hiccup watched in some mix of shock, surprise, and a tiny bit of fear as Toothless very deliberately placed a claw on the deer's stomach, and nodded. The same was done with the flailing legs, and finally the neck.

He was showing Hiccup where to strike. The stomach and neck, the vulnerable parts. The legs, so it couldn't run. Hiccup found the presence of mind to nod.

Toothless grinned, before swiftly snapping the deer's neck, a clean kill. The panicked noises the animal had been making this entire time, those few moments of deliberate instruction, abruptly cut off. The forest was silent. He picked the dead body up in his mouth and began trotting back to the beach, head held high to prevent the deer's dangling limbs from tripping him up.

Hiccup followed, his mind in turmoil. He had always known Toothless was a predator, and while he didn't particularly like hunting...

This was better than how humans did it. The one time his father had taken him hunting, the end had been much more brutal and painful for the animal in question. Because, being manly Vikings, they didn't use bows. Or, Stoick didn't. No, that hunt had been done by ax. He had never known his father was so stealthy. But the sight of a deer being hamstrung and then beheaded had only reinforced the assertion that Stoick as a baby had popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders.

It wasn't the hunt or kill that bothered him. And it wasn't that this bothered him, exactly. It was that Toothless so clearly had indicated exactly what to do, every step of the way. This trip was supposed to be so that Toothless could relax. But Hiccup had a feeling his friend didn't want to relax.

No, his friend wanted to prepare him. Not for anything specific, just to... survive. To be self-sufficient.

So, when Toothless reached the beach, Hiccup assisted him in skinning the carcass, showing the Fury that the skin could be taken off. Toothless didn't seem to understand why it mattered, but he was at least impressed that Hiccup could do what he, with his indelicate claws and teeth, could not. He warbled happily as Hiccup worked.

Hiccup set the raw hide off to the side, knowing it would be valuable anywhere people traded, regardless of whether it was tanned or not, something he definitely didn't have the materials or experience to do here.

After taking a bit for himself, Hiccup set up a fire and tried not to watch too closely as Toothless made the rest of the deer disappear. Ignoring the bones cracking was quite difficult, but he managed.

He could ignore the sounds, but not their implications. "Gods, it's a good thing we're friends." Hiccup spoke to the massive predator happily cracking bones in his jaws. "You guys are terrifying."

Toothless spat out a bone and coughed, before purring at Hiccup.

"See?" Hiccup had given up trying not to look, and Toothless had gotten rid of most of the deer by this point anyway, save for the copious amount of blood on his paws, mouth, and the sand around him. Hiccup gestured at the scene in front of him. "Somehow, I forget that... this is part of you too. No one else does."

Toothless took in Hiccup's face and followed his eyes to the blood. He hastily dug his paws under the sand and warbled sheepishly.

"No, it's not a bad thing." Hiccup smiled. "Just that everyone else sees a vicious monster. I don't." It helped that Vikings weren't the cleanest eaters to start with. This wasn't so bad, by comparison. At least Toothless didn't burp and pick his teeth. The blood was just an unfortunate side effect of the food.

They spent the rest of the evening nearby and slept under the stars on the beach.

O-O-O-O-O

The next morning started abruptly, as Toothless nudged Hiccup awake.

"What is it?" Hiccup stood, making sure that yes, they were still alone, no, there was no imminent threat. With that determined, he flopped back down on the sand. "It's barely dawn."

Toothless, however, would not be deterred. In a series of increasingly annoying pokes and prods, he succeeded in getting Hiccup to admit defeat.

"Fine." Hiccup stood, glaring playfully at the alert and obviously amused Fury in front of him. "What do you want to do now?"

Toothless nodded towards the forest, and then the pelt Hiccup had left out nearby.

"Hunting again?" Hiccup wasn't sure why, but he felt that wasn't it. "Like yesterday?"

That was answered with a chuff and then a growl. Toothless nodded very deliberately at Hiccup, and then at the pelt.

He wasn't sure, but... "You want me to hunt?"

That was it. Toothless barked affirmatively, gesturing for Hiccup to go ahead. Apparently, the roles would be reversed today.

This was new territory for Hiccup. The few times in his life he had gone hunting, it had been to observe. Not do it himself. Well, he might as well try.

O-O-O-O-O

Three hours later, and Hiccup was regretting going along with this. Not that he had been unsuccessful. He had just happened across his quarry, a much less impressive deer compared to the one Toothless had taken down. It was at the bottom of a small valley, nosing around in the bushes. Unaware of the human and dragon within a hundred feet, watching it.

He was regretting this because it felt... cruel. They could just get fish, which while still hunting, somehow felt less violent than this. But looking back at Toothless, who was giving him a 'go ahead' gesture, Hiccup realized that this wasn't just about food. Toothless wanted to see that he was capable of hunting.

He'd probably only have to prove he could do it once though. Hiccup smiled as he realized that. Hopefully, this would work...

He slipped out, pulling a knife from one of the many holsters within reach. Crept towards the deer. And-

Whoops. Stepped on a branch. Hiccup flinched as the crack resounded across the forest, and the deer bolted. Straight towards him, because that was the only way out of the valley. He, at that moment, realized that Toothless wasn't going to move on from this particular lesson if he failed.

"Sorry." Hiccup lashed out with the long knife, cutting a tendon as the deer bounded past, far more dependent on luck than skill.

The deer tumbled to a stop, struggling to stand.

Hiccup stood over it, looking into its eyes. To his relief, there was no horribly familiar spark of resignation, of despair. Just the mindless struggling of a true animal. He didn't know what he'd do if every animal he ever found turned out to be intelligent. Convincing the village of Berk to stop fighting dragons? Hard, but apparently doable. Convincing an island of Vikings to become vegetarians? Impossible.

He quickly and sadly cut its throat, as Toothless had indicated. Hunting would never be his favorite activity. He met Toothless's eyes. "There. You know I can do it. That doesn't mean I like it."

Toothless whined softly at his tone, inclining his head. Hopefully, that message had gotten through, though Toothless certainly acted as though he understood. Together, they took the body back to the beach, and soon Hiccup had another pelt to take with them. They left that island a few hours later, working their way further into the unknown.

O-O-O-O-O

The next few days followed a pattern. Toothless would find an island devoid of anything more dangerous than wild boar, and they would spend the day there. Hiccup was happy to see that now Toothless was embracing the idea of just relaxing and having fun out here. With every passing day, the Fury shed a bit more of the overprotective and stressed persona Hiccup had seen, and returned to his calmer and yet somehow more energetic self, free from paranoia.

That wasn't to say the relaxing was done only by Toothless. Hiccup realized, over those days, that he had been stressed too, if not for the same reasons. Apparently, being surrounded by people who were suddenly treating him like a hero after fifteen years of the opposite got a person a bit wound up.

The total isolation acted as a reset of sorts. No outside influences, just like the cove. Only now there was no limit on where they could go, or when Hiccup had to leave. Because, apart from going back to Berk in a week or so, there were no limits.

By the time there was a week left in their trip, Hiccup felt that they both had returned to normal. He leaned against Toothless, staring at the night sky. "You know we have to go back in a week, right?"

Toothless growled but inclined his head. He knew.

"That doesn't mean we can't do this again." Hiccup smiled, hearing the curious rumble that comment elicited. "We should make this a regular thing." Once a year felt a bit long. Maybe twice a year. Once in the spring, like now, and once in the fall. That seemed good.

A questioning warble and a glance from those large green eyes conveyed a question. Why go back at all?

Hiccup shrugged. "It's home. My family is there. Well, Stoick, anyway. He's pretty much it. And Astrid." However that was going to work out. She seemed to have mostly gone back to not acknowledging his existence, for some reason.

Toothless grunted.

"And you." Hiccup raised his hands in self-defense. "You too!" That actually brought something to mind. "What about you?"

That was met with an unimpressed stare.

"Right, that." Sometimes, he forgot Toothless couldn't actually talk. He was so good at making himself understood it honestly slipped Hiccup's mind. "Okay, let me ask another way. You had parents, right? I'm pretty sure that's how it works."

Toothless nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, any siblings?" Hiccup elaborated. "You know, other Night Furies, brothers or sisters?"

Another nod.

"How many?"

Toothless seemed to be almost sad now, but he scratched one line into the ground in front of them.

"One, huh?" Hiccup was realizing where this line of questioning must be leading, given Toothless's change in mood. But he had to know. "Are they... still around?"

A shake of the head. Toothless whined softly, before closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, bud. I shouldn't have asked." Hiccup laughed softly as Toothless whacked him with his tailfin. "Was that you agreeing or disagreeing? It feels the same either way."

Later that night, Hiccup thought a bit more about what he had learned. Toothless had a sibling. And they were gone. He didn't know, but he was going to bet that sibling was younger than Toothless. Because his friend quite clearly had practice acting as a big brother.

He had other questions this information brought up, but in the end, the answers didn't matter enough to justify bringing up a sensitive topic again. The past was gone, and it wasn't like it could come back to bite them.

O-O-O-O-O

"Come on, it's for a good cause." Hiccup stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down. Toothless huffed in irritation.

"Look, I'll go in, sell those pelts, and then leave. You can even watch me from the woods. They don't seem very observant." Hiccup sighed, seeing Toothless wasn't convinced. "If I come back with gold, Stoick will be more likely to let us do this again in the future."

That did it. Toothless snorted, nudging Hiccup towards his back. They quickly flew down to the dense forest, and Hiccup took the pelts with him as he entered the somewhat large village from the fringes, walking out of the woods as if he had a right to be there.

This place, he noticed, had way more people than Berk. Also unlike Berk, they didn't even seem to notice foreigners, something he was grateful for. A one-legged teenager with pelts drew no more attention than a beggar in the street, ragged and dirty, or a woman asking questions of anyone who made eye contact.

He learned of that particular condition because he made eye contact, and she quickly came close, eyes desperate.

"Can I help you?" He shifted the pelts to one arm.

"I hope so." The woman shifted, looking around worriedly. "My daughter is missing. Have you seen a little girl, about seven years old, blond hair and blue eyes? Her name is Hilda, and she loves cats."

That didn't seem like the greatest way to identify someone. Although Hiccup had noticed several stray cats wandering around, so he supposed it wasn't entirely useless information. "No, I haven't. But if I do, I'll let you know."

"That's all I ask." The woman moved over to another person, asking the same question and receiving the same answer, far less kindly from this person.

Hiccup walked on, keeping the girl in the back of his mind, in case he ran into her. He eventually located a trader who dealt in pelts and set his down.

The trader examined them, before laughing. "Someone got lucky." He held up the smaller. "This one was your work." Then he held up the larger. "But something else killed this. Not you, unless I miss my guess."

"Does it matter?"

"You should have killed the dragon and brought its hide in, not the prey you managed to steal." The trader spoke idly, handing Hiccup the money for the pelts. "Dragon hide goes for a lot more."

Hiccup frowned at him. "Well, that's not happening." He walked away stiffly, wishing his leg wasn't hurting. He would have liked to leave the area quicker, but these random aches weren't helping.

Eventually, he gave in and sat down on a barrel by the edge of an alley, hands on his leg, just above the stump. The pain was aggravating, just strong enough to stop him from ignoring it.

"That looks like it hurts."

"Who said that?" Hiccup looked around, trying to find the origin of the young voice.

A small child stepped out of the shadows of the alley, smiling at him. "Does it?"

Hiccup took in the fact that the girl had blond hair and blue eyes. "Yes. Is your name Hilda, by any chance?" He was surprised to see her shake her head.

"No, it's not. My name is Vithvarandi." The little girl was still staring at his leg. "How much?"

"Not that much. But the pain doesn't really seem to go away entirely." Hiccup answered candidly, still thinking about the strange similarity between this girl and the one that the woman had described.

Before Vithvardani could say anything else, a stray cat walked up to her and started purring, rubbing its head on her ankle.

Well, so much for this girl not-

Vithvardani shocked Hiccup by kicking the cat, _hard._ It yowled, running away as fast as its scrawny legs could carry it. "I hate cats."

Okay, definitely not Hilda. And far more callous than Hiccup thought most little kids could be.

Vithvarandi continued with their conversation, her eyes strangely intent. "How did you lose it?"

"That's a long story." Hiccup wanted to leave. This girl made him uncomfortable. But his leg did still hurt, and it wasn't like a seven-year-old child could hurt him, even if he didn't currently have a dozen knives on his person.

The girl got closer, now meeting his eyes directly.

He recoiled slightly, shocked by the amount of awareness those eyes held. There was something about her, something off.

"How much would you like to have it back?" She was whispering now.

Hiccup laughed bitterly. "No reason to ask rhetorical questions. It's not coming back." That had hit him a bit harder than it would have, knowing that Toothless's tailfin was coming back. That tiny twinge of jealousy hadn't resurfaced, but to honestly answer the question... "Very much." To run easily, to simply walk without random aches. To be whole, as Toothless would be. He didn't want his friend to have to worry about him any more than necessary.

Vithvarandi was so close she could whisper in his ear. Her voice was entirely serious. "I can bring it back."

Hiccup recoiled, staring at her. "I'm not sure what you think-"

She cut him off, her voice cold. "Do you have a map?"

Hiccup flinched. "Yes, but why-"

"Give it to me." Vithvarandi's tone brooked no argument.

As if in a daze, Hiccup pulled out the simple map he had brought on the trip, and handed it over. He watched as Vithvarandi confidently looked it over, before marking it with a charcoal pencil pulled from a pocket. Then she handed it back.

Hiccup saw that she had put a new island on his map, one on the outskirts, where no ship likely ever went, due to its proximity to what used to be the nest. "What is this?"

Vithvarandi giggled, a noise made disturbing by how she in no way acted like a child. "Where you can be helped."

"You expect me to believe you?" Hiccup didn't specify, because it was all ridiculous. That there even was an island, that something or someone there could do the impossible.

"Yes." Vithvarandi stared at him. "You said you'd very much like to have your leg back. That can be done, there. Find a cavern in center of the island, and descend as far as possible. Bring a group or just one other person. Not a friend though. Someone you don't really know."

"Why not a friend?" Out of everything, that was what Hiccup chose to question.

She smiled. "It's not safe there. No reason to endanger people you care about. But you can bring a friend if you really want. I will say that two, counting you, is the best number. More is problematic. Less is pointless."

Hiccup stared at her. Despite the nonsense she was speaking, her voice carried authority, confidence. "You're a very strange little girl."

She turned to leave, glancing back at Hiccup as she entered the shadows of the alleyway. "Think about it. I like you. I hope you decide to be helped."

In moments, he could no longer see her. Whoever she was, he thought idly, she definitely wasn't Hilda. That cat had proven it fairly decisively.

He returned to the forest without further incident and met up with Toothless.

Once they were in the air, he broached the subject. "Bud, something really weird happened in that town." He described the conversation. "So, she marked an island on my map, and said to go there."

Toothless warbled curiously, looking back at his rider.

"I don't know." Hiccup considered the situation. "I mean, we have a few days. But we could just go home."

A derisive snort.

"Yeah, I know you don't want to go back early." Hiccup stared at the map as if the strange girl's markings could tell him something more. "A cave in the center of the island. Go as deep as we can. Bring at least one other person." He smiled. "Well, she said it would be dangerous. But she didn't know who I'd be bringing."

Toothless roared triumphantly, slowing in midair.

Hiccup made his decision, pointing Toothless in a new direction. "Okay bud, let's see just what the crazy little girl is telling us to do." The odds were, there was no island. But if that was the case, they could just go to the now abandoned nest. And even if there was an island, there might not be a cave system or anything at the bottom.

But if there was... Who knew? Hiccup didn't want to get his hopes up, but there was the tiniest sliver of a chance this might be real. He'd seen some crazy things, who was to say this wouldn't be one of them? Besides, he had a Night Fury by his side. There was nothing they couldn't face together.

O-O-O-O-O

In the village they had left, the mother never found her daughter. None of the villagers noticed the shimmering warping of the air that signified the movement of something invisible to normal eyes, something exiting the village and flying as fast as it could towards some distant point. No one noticed the stains of acid in a forgotten corner of the town, where several alley cats had frequented. People only saw what they expected to see.

 ** _Author's Note:_** **So, getting creepy yet? I always welcome guesses and predictions, and look forward to seeing just how many plot twists can be guessed by readers beforehand. At this point though, there's no way anyone knows what's coming...**


	3. Descent

_**Author's Note:**_ **Looking at the schedule of posts for this story, I've made a few changes. This story will still update every Saturday. However, in keeping with the theme of this month, there will be two extra updates, on October 31st and November 1st. Also, obviously, today's bonus update, because I needed one more extra update to fit when I want the epilogue to post, and this is a good chapter to add in unexpectedly.**

The island did indeed exist. It was large, covered in sparse trees and very plentiful thorns. The entire place had an abandoned feel to it.

Toothless set down in one of the few places devoid of both trees and thorns, a plume of dust rising from his landing. Both man and dragon sneezed, though Toothless's plasma sneezes only made the situation worse. To the embarrassment of both, Toothless ended up having to take off again and land somewhere else.

Hiccup sneezed again, rubbing the dust out of his eyes. He could still see the dust cloud a few hundred feet away. "Why didn't we just land here to start with?"

Toothless lifted a paw in response, displaying a thorn stuck in the padding of his foot. A rather large thorn, the size of Hiccup's pinky finger.

Hiccup winced, moving over to remove it. "That explains it." He pulled the thorn out quickly, wisely dropping it and covering his ears as Toothless roared in pain.

Now that they were more or less intact and on the ground, Hiccup took a moment to look around.

"This place is cheery." He kept talking despite the snort of disbelief from Toothless. "Come on, who doesn't love old trees, dust, and painful plant life! Perfect place to do the impossible."

The lifeless atmosphere of the island was getting to him a little. "Let's just see if this cave exists."

Hiccup wouldn't admit it, but underneath the worry, annoyance, and unease this island caused, there was a glimmer of hope. Because despite everything, the girl had been right so far. The possibility that she was telling the truth about everything was slowly rising.

O-O-O-O-O

It took most of the day. Traversing the island, dragon or human, was either a slow or painful affair, depending on the rate of travel. One had to place each step carefully, to avoid the myriad of black thorns that littered the island, growing in scattered clumps and fields, literally strangling the life out of some trees. Not that those trees had looked so healthy to start with. They were some type of spruce, but clearly not very healthy ones if the fact that half the needles of any given tree were dead, brown and dry, was any indication. Oh, and of course, the weather was so dry the dirt had turned to dust, as Toothless and Hiccup had discovered earlier. All in all, it was a pretty depressing place.

It was nearing sunset when Hiccup caught a glimpse of something black and dense, as opposed to sparse and black, a sign of more brambles in the way. He and Toothless made their way towards it, silent after the toil of the search. It was hard not to speed up when it became apparent that it was indeed a cave entrance, but multiple puncture wounds on both of them from previous false leads had taught patience.

He and Toothless stopped in front of it, looking in. Hiccup could see... absolutely nothing. "What can you see?"

Toothless grunted, giving him a flat stare.

"Oh, right." Hiccup winced. "Hmm..." He looked around. He was going to need to be able to see. A torch would do nicely, but what to make it from?

Hiccup settled on grabbing a low branch of a spruce tree and pulling. He wasn't the strongest Viking around, not by a long shot, but these trees weren't strong either. The entire branch came off with a dry snap and Hiccup stumbled back, almost falling into the cave.

Toothless snorted, watching this.

"I needed light." Hiccup held the branch as an oversized torch, pointing at the end. "Mind setting me up?"

A tiny ball of blue fire lit the end of the branch. Hiccup estimated he had somewhat less than an hour before it went out. He waved it into the almost vertical cave, seeing that the rock was a strange tan color. "Well, time and my torch are wasting."

The two friends descended into the cave. If seen from above, the light of the torch would have slowly faded alongside that of the sun as both went deeper, the darkness following in their wake.

O-O-O-O-O

The cave system was certainly intricate. Hiccup had to wonder at several points what kind of rock this was. The complex and multi-level warren they were traveling through would surely have collapsed if located in any normal rock layer. There were ledges that felt downright unnatural, less than a foot thick, and several dozen feet long. Yet they didn't break, even when Toothless accidentally stepped on them. Often, neither of them would realize they had been standing on such a seemingly weak platform until after getting off of it and seeing it from a different angle.

"I wish I knew what this stuff is." Hiccup stopped a few minutes in, staring at the nearest wall. The rock was a tan-grey and almost porous, a very abrasive surface only smoothed by erosion in the places water would flow down. Which implied that it would rain here, despite the total drought conditions that currently existed.

He tried chipping at it with the metal hilt of one of his knives, but it wouldn't flake. "So much for that." It was enough that it wasn't going to collapse on their heads.

O-O-O-O-O

Descending deeper become more and more difficult as the tunnels grew sparser and less open. Finding one that led in a downward direction was no help, as often said tunnels would curve back up, depositing them on a higher level. Hiccup's torch was going steadily, and he knew they were running out of time.

Toothless was also becoming more and more agitated. He was growling softly, at nothing in particular.

Hiccup might have been worried about some unseen threat, but Toothless would have been acting on it, not just following. This was simply a sign of intense unease. He felt it too. This place was unnatural. But surely that meant they were on the right track.

They had reached an intersection of sorts, one in which three tunnels crossed over a pit. Hiccup looked down into the pit, but it was apparent that it led nowhere. A deep hole with no exit or side tunnels whatsoever, and a thin layer of stagnant water on the bottom.

The other exits, five in total, were unusually distinct, in contrast to the uniformity of previous ones. And, Hiccup noted with surprise, these had runes carved into the wall, despite the odd difficulty of even scratching this stone.

The first tunnel, the one directly to Hiccup's right, seemed fragmented, cracks running through the stone for a few feet. The word over it was simple and yet indecipherable in meaning. 'Memory.'

The second tunnel entrance seemed to have been scorched, a darkened flame blackening it at some point in the past. The words over it were also scorched, though they had originally been carved. The message, twice repeated, was 'Sacrifice.'

The third tunnel was caved in, a sight that filled Hiccup with dread. He had thought this place resistant to such issues. The letters on this one had apparently been recarved some time after the cave in. 'Personality.'

The fourth tunnel was normal, and the word even more so. 'Exit.'

And the fifth lead deep into the earth, the word scratched with an unearthly precision. 'Center'.

The last two tunnels felt different, as if named by a different hand. Hiccup did not doubt that he was meant to go into the one labeled center and that the one labeled exit was indeed an exit. They felt simple, straightforward. The other three, however, were unknowns. Disturbing ones at that. Memory, Personality, and Sacrifice. Not the most literal descriptions.

"Well, bud?" Hiccup turned to look at Toothless, who was sniffing the tunnel labeled memory. After a moment, he shook his head, growling in what Hiccup recognized as defiance.

"Okay, not memory." Hiccup considered the other paths. "Personality is blocked, and I don't like the sound of Sacrifice. So, we can leave, or we can figure out what's at the bottom of this place."

Toothless however began to stalk into memory, still growling defiantly.

"Okay, Memory it is." Hiccup followed, worrying about his torch. Toothless could get him out, of that he was sure, but when it went out, that was it for exploring. He wouldn't be able to work up the nerve to enter this place again. That was a truth he knew, in defiance of reason. When this torch burned out, they were leaving.

But it hadn't gone yet. So he followed Toothless through the passage, which was winding, curving to one side consistently, no exits or side-passages to be seen.

Toothless abruptly stopped, his growls faltering as he stared at the wall. Hiccup stood beside him, looking at what had caught his friend's attention.

It was a carving of a man, staring out at the tunnel from the wall, sightless eyes glaring. The details were sparse, done in the same painstakingly-etched lines as before, but they conveyed that the figure was human, male, angry, and not at all tall. Short, squat.

"Odd." Hiccup smirked despite the unsettling nature of everything around them. "I'm going to guess not a self-portrait. No one makes himself look ugly in pictures."

Toothless shuffled to the side, revealing another picture. A dragon, a Terrible Terror, though again detail was sparse. And another, just visible beyond him. A Gronckle, one with a missing eye.

As they walked through the tunnel, Hiccup recognized most of the common species of dragon, along with a few less common. Two in particular, right next to each other, made him gasp. "Night Furies."

Toothless pawed at the wall, seemingly confused. To be fair, there was almost no detail in these two, just enough to identify them as members of the species.

They continued. There was a single Whispering Death and a few Changewings, along with people. Men and women of all ages, ethnicities, and sizes, though far more women than men. A few children, though no toddlers or infants. All staring out from the wall, carved in stone.

The tunnel ended in... a very familiar cave in. Hiccup stared, confused, rewinding his mental map of the route they had taken. "This must be the other side of the personality passage." That was odd. Why label two ends of the same tunnel different things?

Toothless must have come to the same conclusion, because he turned and nudged Hiccup, urging him back they way they had come. Hiccup obliged him, trailing his hand over the carvings, lingering on the pair of Furies. "What was this place?"

He had a theory, though it was an odd one. A corridor labeled memory interspersed fairly evenly with dragons and humans of all kinds. Was this some sort of ruin from a civilization that lived in harmony with dragons, like he hoped Berk would? That fit, but it didn't fit the atmosphere of these caves, this island. Such a place would be one of less... disturbing nature.

They returned to the intersection, and this time Hiccup didn't hesitate. "Let's figure out why we're here, bud." He shoved his dying torch forward, and strode into the cave, descending even further into the earth, his best friend watching his back.

It was right about then he remembered something Vithvarandi had said. 'It's not safe there.' But had she simply been referring to the complex system of caverns and the entirely possible fate of being trapped in the darkness forever? That would be a massive concern if he didn't have Toothless here. Hopefully, that was it.

They descended further, and Hiccup realized something slightly comforting. The rock around them had changed again, fading into a very normal dark grey stone, one he could chip with effort. This new stone was lined with a strange moss. Moss that glowed, lighting the way.

"Looks like we don't have to worry about light for now." Hiccup considered the burning nub of the branch, likely good for another five minutes or so. "Bud, can you put this out? We can leave it here for when we leave."

Toothless complied, snuffing out the flames with his fireproof scales, leaving a smoldering branch at the place where the glowing moss ended. Together, they pressed onward.

The tunnel continued at an angle into the ground. It eventually began to split off, one intersection after another, coming at regular intervals, like a giant grid. Hiccup pressed onwards, never turning. The only thing he knew was that the tunnel wasn't sloping anymore, and none of the branches did either, from what he could tell. This must be the lowest level. Now they just needed to find the center.

Their forward progress was halted by a very strange door. It was built entirely out of some grey metal, and there was an odd dial on the front, one with numbers carved into it, so that at any given time one number would be facing up.

Hiccup spun the dial pensively, noting that the numbers ranged from zero to ten in no sequential order. "Weird." Then he noticed that the wall on both sides of the door had hundreds of tiny carvings distributed seemingly at random, of anything and everything. Trees, animals, people, stars, shapes, more numbers. Literally hundreds of them.

He turned his attention to the door, which, upon closer inspection, had a phrase carved into it, so lightly as to be invisible from afar. It was indecipherable, but there were more recent scratches in normal Norse runes below. He read it out loud. "It kills all who live, destroys all that is built, and erases memory. We all have it, but some more than others." He grimaced. "That's cheery."

Hiccup took a step back. "I refuse to be beaten by a puzzle." Of all people, he would not let that happen. "We need a number between one and ten. And we also need to do something else, because otherwise, I would have unlocked the door just by spinning that dial."

He reexamined the carvings, noting that many of them repeated. "It kills everyone, destroys everything. I don't know of any god that does that. Ragnarok is a massive battle, not one person ending the world." He was musing now.

"So many of these symbols repeat. Man, dog, tree, cloud, dog, cloud, sundial, dog..." Wait a minute. "Sundial. Time. It kills everyone, old age. Nothing lasts forever. And everyone has time, some more than others!"

In retrospect, it wasn't that hard of a puzzle. But that wasn't everything. Inspiration wasn't long in coming for the rest. He pushed the sundial and noticed that it moved slightly, the section it was carved into a separate piece of stone, despite appearing part of the wall.

But there was an ominous rumble above them when he pushed it. Clearly, messing this up would be bad.

Toothless growled, looking up.

"Yeah, I know." Hiccup thought logically, not about the puzzle itself but how it was built. From the point of view of the person who made it. Clearly, it was designed to keep people out, unless they understood the process. He knew the verbal part of the answer, and how to indicate it. But there was something else. He needed a number. What here indicated a number? The only thing that indicated numbers was the number of times a symbol was repeated. That was it.

He searched the wall, carefully seeking out other sundial images. This was important, and he spared no effort in looking. Missing one would likely be fatal if that ominous rumble overhead had been any indication. In all of his searching, he only found one more, hidden in a corner, on the opposite corner of the corridor. It also budged, telling him exactly what he needed to do.

Vithvarandi had given him the final clue, he thought. She had said two people were ideal. One for each carving. "Toothless. When I say, push this in." He was glad his friend understood pretty much everything he said.

They both paused, Toothless with a claw on one sundial, Hiccup with his hand on the other. The number had been set to display two, and if he was right, they needed to push both sundials in at the same time. "Now."

They both pushed, Toothless matching Hiccup's speed despite superior strength because he was pushing with a single claw, an awkward movement for a Night Fury. Both stone blocks slid haltingly, grinding against the surface of the holes they rested in. There were no further rumbles from above, and eventually both Hiccup and Toothless hit a place where the rocks wouldn't go any further.

A very distinct series of clicks made both of them flinch, though Hiccup grinned at the noise. Without even looking, he knew what had just happened. As an inventor, he could reverse engineer things like this. A system built on pressure and moving parts. Both sundials moved parts likely above them, as well as something in the door. The lock had three parts, and the misplacement of either sundial or misalignment of the dial would result in an insufficient loadbearing weight somewhere above them.

The stone that formed the ceiling above their head, he had to guess, was an extremely thin shelf. Somewhere high above it likely rested several dense boulders, which would at the first mistrigger of the lock be dropped, smashing through the shelf and crushing them. He knew this because it all made sense. So without even looking, he shoved the now ajar door open. "Nice try."

Toothless eyed the now open passage in front of the dubiously.

Hiccup smiled. "Well, we've gone this far..." He trailed off as Toothless nodded at the door. "Good to know you're with me on this."

Together, they ventured even further in. The passage ended in a large circular room, one with no exits save the one they had come in through.

The first thing either of them noticed was the little girl, standing in the center of the strange room. It was definitely the same person, despite the sheer impossibility. They had flown directly here, moving much faster than any ship could ever go, though not at any particularly high speed for a dragon. It was impossible.

The girl, on the other hand, smiled, though her grin faded into a look of confusion as Toothless became visible, walking in after Hiccup. For a moment, there was a stand-off. Then she broke it by turning away and walking towards the far wall, which Hiccup noticed had many strange runes carved seemingly at random, in no language he recognized.

After a moment she spoke, still not paying any attention to them both. "You came. With a very strange companion, but nonetheless."

Hiccup flinched at her words. The fact that she didn't seem at all frightened of Toothless didn't surprise him. It was just another facet of her oddness. "Yes." This girl had been unnerving out in the daylight, surrounded by people. In here, who knew how far below the ground, in a strange and unnatural complex of caves... she was downright disturbing. None of this felt right.

She pushed in a portion of the wall, fiddling with something he couldn't see beyond. She spoke as she worked, seemingly at ease. "It's been quite a while." A yank and a decidedly odd curse followed those words. "And this place gets more broken down every time. Not that it matters."

"Do you... live here?" That made no sense, but he asked anyway.

Vithvarandi shrugged. "Not really. This place is old and depressing, but I come back every once in a while. To add to the hall of memory, and once in a great while, to do this." She punctuated that last word by pulling something out of the unseen hollow and pushing the stone back into place. "You'll need this."

Hiccup stared at the ancient... thing... she held out towards him. It was clearly old, a metal canister with glass sides, filled with some sort of blue liquid, though that might just have been the ambient glow of the moss lighting the room. "For what?"

Vithvarandi smiled. "To make you whole." She gestured to his leg. "Was that not what you wanted, more than anything?"

Not exactly more than anything, Hiccup realized. There were plenty of things he would have gladly traded a leg for. But he did want it back if it could be done. "Well, I do want it back..."

She shook it, grimacing. "Then take it. You may also want to tell your pet to move aside a little bit."

He didn't like the way she referred to Toothless as a pet, but he took the canister anyway and stepped away. This was where he drew the line though. "As great as all this seems, I wasn't born yesterday. Mind explaining a little more than 'you'll need this?"

Vithvarandi smiled at him, her young face shadowed oddly by the glow from the moss. "In a moment. I know you won't do anything without a full explanation. No one does. Luckily, I don't need to do that first. This is for your own good."

A sharp pain in the hand that held the canister underlined those ominous words quite efficiently. Hiccup yelped and let go of the canister, trying to drop it. The problem was, it was attached to his hand, in defiance of anything he could do to shake it off. And it _hurt_. He was horrified to see the blue liquid disappearing, and to feel a strange burning sensation travel up his arm, slowly moving towards the rest of him.

Vithvarandi sighed, looking at Toothless, who was growling at her, clearly torn between worry and rage. "Call your pet off. I told you, this is for your own good."

Hiccup groaned, finally able to drop the canister, which was empty. "That might be a good argument... if you hadn't just poisoned me, or whatever that was." He didn't know what it was, but it certainly felt poisonous, that odd heat traveling through his veins, spreading across his entire body. Nevertheless, he waved Toothless back, seeing the wisdom in not attacking the little girl who was clearly far more than she appeared.

The girl grabbed the canister, eyeing it before tossing it aside. "Now that we've begun, I have an offer for you." She glared at Toothless, before smiling at Hiccup. "It would be in your best interests to listen."

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **A true cliffhanger here, I'd say. Sorry, but at least you have one less day to wait, right?**


	4. Offer

The room echoed with Toothless's steady growl, the stone walls bouncing the sound back until it almost seemed like there was more than one dragon in the room. That was an illusion, Hiccup knew. Although, his grip on reality was fracturing, partly thanks to the unknown liquid making his head buzz and his entire body feel like it was going to burst into flame. The other part was that so many things didn't make sense or add up. He was a logical person, not given to blaming magic or the gods for anything he didn't understand. But some things here... Vithvarandi, the canister that had acted almost as if on its own volition...

He shook his head. That stuff, whatever it was, really wasn't great for concentrating. "I'm listening. But you'd better have a really good explanation for all of this." Ideally, one that somehow didn't involve the gods or magic. His day had been bad enough without learning that Loki had decided to toy with him or something of that magnitude.

Vithvarandi laughed, her young voice also echoing across the room. "I don't, really. But to be fair," her voice darkened significantly, "I didn't get any more of a forewarning than you did."

Hiccup shook his head, his vision clouding. "Faster, if you want me alive to hear it."

"You aren't going to die right this second." Vithvarandi's voice was petulant, the first emotion that truly fit her appearance in this entire encounter. "But I'll wait until the first stage passes. As I recall, it's a bit hard to concentrate during that."

Hiccup was in no condition to argue. He dropped, his vision spinning too much to stay on his feet. That buzzing feeling was concentrating now. Most of it in his head, with a not-insignificant portion in his hands. It burned, a strange pain totally unlike anything he had experienced. He felt no urge to scream or cry. It was almost as if he was numb to it, though it definitely hurt.

Toothless yelped as Hiccup fell, quickly sticking his head under Hiccup's back, catching him before he hit the ground. He lowered Hiccup carefully to the ground, moving to stand over him, casting Vithvarandi a glare before nudging frantically at Hiccup's limp hand.

He jumped back a little when both hands began to glow faintly from the palms, a brief light that faded quickly.

Hiccup sat up, shaking his hands like crazy, wincing. "Seriously, what in the world was that stuff?!" The pain was mostly gone, though he could still feel something strange in the back of his head, but now his hands were numb. "I like my hands and head just the way they are!"

Vithvarandi simply stared at him. "It was necessary."

He might have retorted, but at that moment, he could feel his hands again, sensation returned as quickly as it had gone. They hurt. A lot. This pain was familiar. Shaking, he turned them to look at his palms.

On both of Hiccup's palms, burned right into the center, were identical scars. Three thin lines, one horizontal on the base of his palm, and two vertical pointing up towards his pinky and pointer fingers. The three were connected at the edges, forming a simple symbol, like three sides of a square, or a bucket in shape.

Toothless cautiously sniffed them before chuffing, nonplussed. Hiccup felt much the same way. His hands felt mostly normal now, but that really wasn't what he had been expecting to happen.

Vithvarandi moved closer, smiling the whole time. "There. Now you can listen without distraction. The second stage lasts a couple of hours."

"Okay." Hiccup stood abruptly, a hand to his waist, hovering over one of his knives. He wouldn't be caught unaware again. "Explain what in Thor's name you just did. Because as far as I can tell, none of this is growing my leg back." He shook the unaffected stump and prosthetic. "You said you could give me my leg back."

"No, I said I could make you whole. And you will have all of your limbs. Eventually. Even limbs you don't have now if you want." She grinned. "Flight is amazing. I definitely recommend wings. But that is not yet important."

Hiccup's mouth had dropped open. "Wings."

"Yes. You've brought a perfect pair with you, you know." Vithvarandi gestured at Toothless.

She continued before that statement could sink in. "I have an offer for you, as I said."

"Go on..." Hiccup waved, entirely aware that he needed knowledge more than anything else. Because if he concentrated, he could still feel things going on in the back of his head, a subtle discomfort that was slowly growing worse. Whatever that was, it hadn't run its course yet.

"My offer is this." Vithvarandi stood, meeting his eyes. "Immortality, in exchange for staying with me."

"Right." Hiccup squinted at her. "If immortality means being stuck as a crazy little kid who goes around injecting people for fun, I think I'll pass." Toothless snarled in agreement.

"Sarcastic." Vithvarandi laughed. "I like that. And rest assured, this is not my only form." With that, her hands lit up.

Hiccup stared as a stream of black fire flowed from both of her palms, engulfing her in seconds. When she was completely covered in it, the fire rose, spreading into the air. Then it began to recede, revealing a much older woman with black hair and blue eyes whose palms were absorbing the black fire.

He noted, with a sick feeling in his stomach, that her hands had the exact same markings on them. Three lines, in the shape of a bucket.

She was tall, lithe, and generally attractive now. Her voice was smooth and mature. "This is better. But I felt it was best to approach you in a less... worldly... form. One that you would associate with innocence and candor. Persuasion is easier when one doesn't suspect it."

"Okay..." Hiccup gestured at her. "So is this your real body?"

Vithvarandi laughed, a lilting sound. "I don't have one 'real' body. They are all mine. Mine now, anyway. And everything that comes with them."

Hiccup took a step back. "This isn't making any sense. But I'd rather not mess with whatever that was."

"Too late." Vithvarandi chuckled. "And I don't think you understand. What do all men fear?"

"A pretty woman promising everything, with a knife behind her back." Hiccup responded without thought, repeating a favorite saying of Gobber's. The old smith had literally asked that same question in jest before. It fit the situation extremely well. The difference being, Hiccup was the one with a knife behind his back, where he had grabbed it under the cover of backing up.

"I am unarmed in this form." Vithvarandi spread her arms wide. "Feel free to search me."

The way she said that made Hiccup blush. "I'd rather not."

She kept her arms spread wide, smiling seductively. "I said, immortality in exchange for staying with me. Immortality gets lonely. And you caught my eye."

Now Hiccup was really blushing. "Uh, I kind of might have a girlfriend. Sort of. So..."

Not the right response. Vithvarandi's eyes narrowed. "So? I can offer you more than anyone else in this world. I was not exaggerating. Immortality is not something you can obtain from anyone."

"Is that what this is?" Hiccup winced as his headache grew stronger. "It really doesn't feel like immortality."

"Because it isn't, yet." Vithvarandi's voice was soft. "Right now, it's killing you."

Hiccup had suspected that. "Feel free to stop it from killing me at any time."

"I can't stop it personally." She spoke neutrally. "Only you can. And right now, you don't know how. I could tell you." Her voice was back to that tempting tone, almost smoldering. "What say you?"

Despite the undeniable temptation of the offer, Hiccup didn't have to think too long. "Something isn't right here. Otherwise, you wouldn't be trying to get me to be with you under threat of death."

Vithvarandi recoiled. She seemed genuinely hurt. "This wasn't to threaten you! I had to be sure you could be like me before I made my offer. I'm pretty sure I understand the requirements, but I've been wrong before. The only way to test it is to try."

"Requirements?"

"Young. I don't know why, but it never worked on anyone older than thirty." Vithvarandi was counting on her fingers, seemingly lost in thought. "But not too young, though I've never tried. Missing a part of themselves." She glanced tellingly at Hiccup's leg. "I don't know why, but that's essential. Finally, though this is a personal requirement, ideally someone I like enough to consider spending eternity with. Though to be fair, I do have to make snap judgments. You seem intelligent, funny..." She smiled. "You fit the description."

"Flattering." Hiccup winced. His head really hurt, though it had a ways to go before it became debilitating like those earlier symptoms. "Did you consider asking if maybe I wanted any of this beforehand?"

She shrugged. "Everyone fears death. This lets you avoid it, and gives you someone to spend eternity with. Far better than the brutish and short life of a Viking."

"So what? Hiccup glanced at her. Do you just not age?" That didn't explain the other form she had, that of a little girl.

"Not quite." Vithvarandi grimaced, taking in Hiccup's paling face. "You aren't very resistant. It will kill you in a matter of hours."

"So tell me how to not die!" Hiccup was coming a bit close to panic. It didn't help that there was nothing Toothless could do but watch at the moment. "You literally have all the time in the world to convince me, but I definitely don't have the same time."

"If I do that, you might leave. Immortal and not my lover." She spoke without any embarrassment. "I don't want that."

"And I don't want to be forced into anything." Hiccup crossed his arms.

"Fine." Vithvarandi pointed at herself. "I am not immortal in any of my forms. The secret is, I don't have to be. If I ever die of old age... I simply revert to another form. Each one ages separately, and don't age when not in use."

"Unless you have unlimited forms, that isn't immortality." Hiccup didn't know if pointing out logical flaws was a good idea, but he needed her to keep talking. He could feel something more than a headache. It almost felt like a tiny whirlpool inside his head, pulling at him. Extremely unnerving, and apparently fatal in a few hours.

"I can have unlimited forms." Vithvarandi grimaced. "Though you will learn quite quickly to be selective with those you take."

"I don't get it." Hiccup, more accurately, was hoping he didn't get it. While she wasn't saying outright, a few pieces were falling into place. Very disturbing, horrifying pieces.

"Fine." Vithvarandi grimaced. "I hate putting it like this, but you can take the bodies of other people, and use them as your own." She waved a finger at him. "Only sapient creatures. No turning into a fish at will. It doesn't work."

Hiccup paled, and Toothless's growl returned tenfold. "And how, exactly, do you do that?" He was really hoping it was something benign, like somehow copying other people. But the fact that the little girl's mother was searching for her child implied otherwise. "Is that little girl just your captive, somehow?"

"No." Vithvarandi's face fell, and she moved away. "But one learns to deal with it. In a way, it's mercy. Life is short and pointless for them. She probably wouldn't have lived very long. Playing with disgusting and likely diseased cats every day wasn't a healthy use of time."

Hiccup would have paled if he wasn't already pale and sweating thanks to the thing slowly killing him. "You killed her."

"To take another's form, they have to die by your hand. Or sword, teeth, claws. Really anything physically connected to you." She shook her head. "Ranged doesn't count. And you have to deal the killing blow."

Hiccup turned to run. He wanted nothing to do with any of this.

Vithvarandi had been one step ahead of him though. She got between them and the door, seemingly unconcerned with the snarling Night Fury in front of her. "Don't leave. There isn't another living thing within a hundred miles except for those in this room. And you won't even make it that far before it kills you."

"Then just stop it!" Hiccup didn't care whether what he was saying made sense. "I don't want any of this!"

Vithvarandi grimaced, holding her ground. "Nothing can be done. Believe me, I didn't accept it either. I just wanted to be whole, like you. But this is better. You'll believe that sooner or later. It might as well be sooner."

Hiccup didn't have time to react as Vithvarandi lashed out, her hand going not to him, but to Toothless, who had at that moment been looking at Hiccup. She moved so quickly, tagging that spot Hiccup knew knocked any dragon out, into a harmless sleep. Toothless collapsed.

Vithvarandi gestured to him. "The reason this is killing you is that it needs to stabilize. We can hold as many forms as you can remember faces. Limitless. But unless you take one soon, very soon, that same power will consume you."

Hiccup could feel it, pulling at him. It did seem like it needed something. But he understood Vithvarandi's point. "No."

She gestured to Toothless's sleeping body. "A loyal pet, to you. But dragons are sapient. He'll do. I see a saddle. Have you ever dreamed of flight? This is your chance."

Hiccup took a step forward, getting between Toothless and Vithvarandi. "You're a monster. How can you try to talk me into killing someone for my own benefit?"

"Because I don't care about them. And you don't have a choice. Either you kill him, or you die." Vithvarandi frowned. "Self-preservation will convince you."

"No, it won't." Hiccup glared at her. "I'd rather die."

Vithvarandi was staring now. "You sound serious. But no one willingly chooses death, when there's any alternative. Especially when there is only one other way."

"I don't care." Hiccup crouched by Toothless's sleeping form, remembering something he had learned recently. A less pleasant counterpart to the pressure point Vithvarandi had used, located on the other side of Toothless's neck. This one didn't put a dragon to sleep. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He pushed it, and Toothless yowled, bolting upright. As far as Hiccup could tell, it was comparable to having a bucket of cold water dumped on one's head. Any dragon woken up in this fashion complained, and Toothless had retaliated in kind when Hiccup first accidentally discovered it, but it worked.

Toothless quickly recalled what had happened and lunged at Vithvarandi, who jumped aside.

Hiccup intervened, a hand on Toothless's head. "If you'll excuse us, I'm going to go spend my last hours with a friend, and not in this horrible place." His voice was dark because he could tell they really were his last hours. Maybe this whole thing was the result of greed. He couldn't be happy with what he had and chased after an impossible dream. This was the price. This, or killing his best friend. He knew which he'd choose. And if it wasn't guaranteed death, if Vithvarandi was holding out on him, he'd force her hand.

Vithvarandi glared. "You really would rather die. Well, so be it." She huffed, making as if to step aside, before pausing. "But you will regret it. And I'm taking something for my trouble. Those canisters are old, and that was the second to last of them. I only have one more chance, and most don't make it past the first stage."

Hiccup pulled out two knives, one in each hand. He knew what she wanted. "Don't even think about it." It was an odd scene. Mainly because despite all she had said and done, Hiccup didn't see Vithvarandi as pure evil. But her disregard for the lives of others was becoming clear. As was the covetous way she looked at Toothless.

Vithvarandi ignored him, looking Toothless in the eye. Then she straightened and laughed, a dark and haunting sound. "We meet again."

Toothless stared at her, no sign of recognition in his eyes.

"Of course, you don't recognize me." Vithvarandi snorted. "But I know you. This is appropriate, I think." She took a step back into the tunnel, further blocking their exit. "Your _friend_ won't do what he must. I have no such reluctance."

Hiccup flinched as that same black fire spread from Vithvarandi's hands, enveloping her. Her last words were disturbing. "Hiccup, my offer stands. Feel free to reconsider. But think quickly. He won't be around for long."

The black fire filled the tunnel, expanding far past Vithvarandi's form. Hiccup took a step back, wondering what she was doing. "Bud... no mercy."

This was an opponent he could tell truly meant to kill. One who had, who knew how many times before.

Toothless growled, in complete agreement. He was still growling when the black fire receded, flowing into two paws on the stone floor. That was about when his growl tapered off, replaced by a heart-rending whine.

Hiccup beheld what might have been the worst-case scenario. Vithvarandi clearly wasn't holding anything back. In the tunnel stood a large Night Fury. One with scales of dark orange, and eyes of dark yellow, a yellow tinged with that same dark orange at the edges. This Fury was noticeably bigger and bulkier than Toothless, and its wings had a sheen to them that his friend did not possess. A terrible snarl echoed, a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth bared.

Toothless was not rising to the challenge. Far from it.

Hiccup looked back, realizing that his friend seemed to be in full-on shock. Shaking, whining, head bowed. Possibly just from seeing this... monster of a woman... take the form of one of his own. Whatever the reason, Hiccup could tell that his overprotective friend was in no condition to protect, ironically enough.

That was where they stood. Deep within a massive cave system, far from the surface. Hiccup slowly falling to a poison that promised a twisted form of immortality, or death. One that could only be stopped by the death of his best friend. A massive, powerful Night Fury bent on killing Toothless itself, the newest form of an amoral woman with that same ability Hiccup was rejecting. Toothless for some reason broken, unable to even look the other Fury in the eye.

Hiccup smiled in the face of all of it. "Never thought I'd get to see another one." He held up both knives. "You made a mistake. I've already chosen to give up my life rather than kill him. He spared me. I also risked my life to save him, multiple times. He's done the same. And I never wanted immortality. Next time, ask first." He looked back and whispered to Toothless. "Bud, I'm dead anyway. Run."

That got Toothless's attention. He was still whining, but he met Hiccup's eyes and shook his head. He wasn't running. Not without Hiccup.

Hiccup realized at that moment that there was a practical consideration too. Toothless needed him to get off of this lifeless island anyway. Scratch the 'noble self-sacrifice' plan. They needed to get out together.

Toothless crept over to Hiccup's side, still unable to look the other Fury in the eyes. They stood there. One faint of body, the other faint of heart. Vithvarandi watching Hiccup, clearly wanting him to reconsider and take Toothless's life. To save his own.

Hiccup glared at her. "I hate you. And myself, for getting into this mess. But I have one question." He flipped a knife up, praying that his aim was good enough. "How'd you get in here? I'm betting it wasn't through that doorway with the riddle. Which means there's another way around that."

The orange Fury tilted its head, pointedly looking at Toothless. Then it growled. Toothless flinched, his constant whine rising in pitch for a moment.

But Toothless seemed to have regained a little of his confidence. He rushed the orange Fury, abruptly enough that Vithvarandi flinched. The two collided, rolling over each other in a ball of black and orange scales, a deafening screech.

Hiccup knew Toothless couldn't hold out long, and the tangle his friend was in stopped him from throwing his knife. The second the Furies were out of the way, he rushed by, passing them. "Toothless!"

Toothless disengaged, bleeding from his shoulder, and the two ran, Vithvarandi on their heels, seething mad.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **From one cliffhanger right into another. I hate to say it, but this isn't the last one either. Ah well, at least it fits with the genre.**

 **On that note, I'd like to clarify something. This story is not purely psychological horror and suspense. Those are just the two most prominent categories. It's actually quite difficult to narrow this one down into such categories. As such, there will be chapters that do not fully meet the definition of horror in the future. Of course, a storm needs calms before and after to be considered frightening by comparison...**


	5. Flight

"Oh, why did I let curiosity get the better of me?!" Hiccup yelled as he fled, Toothless now in front of him, Vithvarandi hot on their metaphorical and literal tails. The grid-like pattern of the lowest layer of caves was helpful in keeping ahead. Toothless turned almost randomly, and it was all Hiccup could do to keep up. They weren't lost, precisely, but Vithvarandi was too close behind them to turn around and head back the way they had come, towards the passage up.

It was clear Toothless had no plan, save for staying away from the form Vithvarandi had taken. Hiccup still didn't know why it had produced such an extreme reaction, but Toothless wasn't thinking straight, even now, so it was up to him. If he could even keep up.

The snorting breaths of Vithvarandi's powerful form were right behind them, the echoing thumps of padded foot and clicks of sharp claws resounding from ahead and behind, a disorienting assortment of echoes colliding and mixing around Hiccup.

To make matters worse, that whirlpool in his head had grown stronger, physically painful now. The emptiness at its center was expanding, apparently unsated without whatever it gained from him killing someone. He really didn't have long. Maybe long enough to get Toothless somewhere safer than here, if they could just get out of these Thor-forsaken caves!

Hiccup took charge. "Toothless, turn right!" He stumbled as he yelled, feeling Vithvarandi's breath literally on his heels. Looking back would be a big mistake, so he kept going. He knew full well that she wouldn't kill him. She'd just stop him from getting between her and Toothless.

Toothless veered right at the next intersection. Hiccup really hoped this place held to the grid pattern he had noticed. If it didn't, and some of the passages turned out to be dead ends, his reckoning on where they were would be useless. But he thought he had this layer figured out.

Above was a tangled mess. But down here made sense. A grid, a pattern. Two rings, an inner and an outer, separated by a door. But that door didn't seem like it had been passed. There had been dust on everything, including the dial. Which meant there were other ways between the inner and outer rings. He was betting on this place holding to symmetry.

"Left now!"

Toothless swerved to the left, a wing skidding across the rock wall of the intersection to a grunt of pain. Hiccup could hear Vithvarandi's larger form slam into the wall, a much louder snarl emitting from her direction. Toothless was just slightly faster in here, and Hiccup's size meant he was far more agile than either of them in tight corners, allowing him to keep up.

Ironically, the only part of him that wasn't aching or in some unnatural pain was his stump. His hands ached as if someone had burned his palms, he had something far worse than a headache at this point, and his stomach was cramping from nausea brought on, he had to guess, by the thing in his head killing him. His legs, however, were fine.

Hiccup could see a door illuminated by the moss. Not the door they had come through because this one was shut. His guess had been right. It was identical to the other, from what he could tell. This time though, they were on the inside. And, as he had noticed, like the other door, the latching mechanism was visible here. Visible, and therefore vulnerable. "Toothless, blast it!"

Toothless complied, blasting the door, trashing the visible machinery. He body-slammed the metal, running out to the outer grid.

Hiccup slowed for a second, searching the wall for a sundial. Vithvarandi had fallen a tiny bit behind, but he had about two seconds to do this and get out. He located it and pushed hard, before running after Toothless.

The sound of falling rocks smashing through a thin sheet of stone and blocking the passage behind them was music to Hiccup's ears. The startled and very undignified squawk emanating from the other side even more so.

Toothless ran back and grabbed him, apparently no longer content to have Hiccup run now that there was a moment to spare. Hiccup crouched, just barely not hitting his head at the height of Toothless's bounds. Directing his friend wasn't necessary now. Toothless knew where the exit into the rest of the cave system was.

Given how the place was laid out, Vithvarandi would be by necessity forced to locate one of the other doors, which Hiccup had correctly deduced were located one in each wall separating the inner and outer grids. She would have to go the long way around. But not that long.

Toothless raced through the end of the passage, passing the dead branch Hiccup had left at the beginning of the moss. From here on out, it would be pitch black. Hiccup was grateful one of them had night vision.

That didn't make it any less scary as they tore through the irregular tunnels, now veering in what Hiccup would have sworn were random directions, if he didn't know the tunnels really were that confused and intricate. Toothless was so effective running through that Hiccup had the disorienting sensation of them both running blind on a large open field. It didn't feel like they were underground anymore, because to Hiccup there were no walls. Just pitch black, echoes, and the dragon beneath him who seemed to know where they were going.

After a few minutes, Hiccup began to hear other sounds. Another set of echoes. A roar, not nearly as distant as he'd like.

Toothless whined, veering away from the roar, which Hiccup realized in dread had come from the side, not behind them. They didn't know these tunnels. Vithvarandi did.

Another roar, this time closer. Toothless ran straight away from it, at an angle Hiccup assumed accommodated the tunnel they were currently in. His heart sank as the tunnel did, but there was no helping it. Vithvarandi was herding them now.

A snarl, from close on the right. Toothless fired a plasma blast, jolting in a different direction.

Nothing. Silence, save for the noises of Toothless trying his best to get away.

The world was fading, whether as an illusion brought on by the darkness or an unhappy side-effect of his oncoming demise, Hiccup didn't know. He closed his eyes, unwilling to stare into the darkness any longer. The world shrunk until it consisted of the sounds of Toothless, the smell of the cave, and Toothless running beneath him, saddle and scales. Hiccup began breathing through his mouth, trying to ignore the smell of the cave.

A moment was spared to regret all of this. Everything after encountering Vithvarandi in the village. If he had just pushed ahead and not stopped to rest, life could have gone on like normal. Things had been going so well. And now, here they were. He was dying, Toothless was in imminent danger of death. No one would know what had happened to them.

Stoick might think he and Toothless had just run off. Or that they had died somehow. Hiccup wasn't sure which was worse. His father's worry, or his father's disappointment.

Astrid. She hadn't been particularly friendly recently, but that was probably his fault, somehow. She would have the same options as Stoick on what to believe. It hurt that he wouldn't even be able to say goodbye to either of them.

And what of his best friend? Toothless deserved so much more than to die here, added to some morbid collection of bodies to be used at will. This was Hiccup's fault. Both that they were here, and that Toothless wouldn't be able to escape once he was dead.

That time was coming, slowly but surely. He was kidding himself if he thought they'd make it to another island. The closest one was several hours away. The way he felt now, he didn't have hours, he had minutes.

He was jolted out of his thought when Toothless roared in pain, jerking into a side-passage. Hiccup hadn't seen Vithvarandi leap out of the darkness and cut a gash in Toothless's side, but he definitely could feel how Toothless's gait faltered now. He could hear his friend's gasps of pain. They were slowing down.

When Toothless stopped, Hiccup instinctively knew they had hit a dead end. Emphasis on dead. His hands hurt now, beating in time with his head. Indeed, as he opened his eyes, he realized those scars on his hands were literally glowing, a blue light that helpfully illuminated the rock wall in front of them.

If this was to be the end, so be it. Hiccup slid down, getting in between Toothless and the rest of the passage. He still held both knives. One was that original long hunting knife, and the other was a much lighter, thinner one. One made for throwing more than actual combat. He held the hunting knife at the ready, and the other behind his back. His palms glowed from around the hilts, letting off just enough light to see the silhouette of Vithvarandi in front of him, staring silently. Waiting.

He didn't have much time left. But maybe time for one last gamble? A glance behind him showed that Toothless was ready to go out fighting, though he was still visibly cowed by the sight of the other Fury.

"Stand down, bud." Hiccup tried to make his voice stop quivering. He met Toothless's eyes, hoping his friend would get the message.

Toothless relaxed slightly. That was the best that could be expected, given the circumstances. Hiccup turned to Vithvarandi. "I might have changed my mind. I don't want to die."

Vithvarandi warbled curiously. Hiccup could finally tell from that neutral sound that her current body was indeed male. He was pretty sure a female Fury's voice wouldn't be that much deeper than Toothless's voice usually was.

"Can I talk to you?" Hiccup lowered his hunting knife, angling it towards Toothless in a motion only Vithvarandi could see. "I want to make sure I don't mess this up."

After a long moment, that now-familiar plume of black flame reemerged, retreating to reveal the woman that Hiccup had seen before.

Vithvarandi smiled. "I knew you'd see sense. There isn't much to it. Just kill him with it. Ideally as painlessly and quickly as possible."

Hiccup was slowly moving his other hand, resetting his grip on the other knife. "Why does that matter?" He was stalling for time.

But her answer genuinely surprised him. "You don't just get the body. The memories come with it. Better not to remember a slow and agonizing death. Especially with the first form you take." She shook her head. "Well, go on. He trusts you, even now. That should make this easy."

Hiccup half turned towards Toothless. "I don't like killing." He met Toothless's eyes. "But for this, I'll make an exception."

"To save your own life. It's understandable." Vithvarandi nodded solemnly.

Hiccup smiled darkly. "No, I fully expect to die." With that, he turned and slung the throwing knife, aiming for Vithvarandi's heart. This definitely wouldn't count as a kill for the purposes of whatever this thing in his head was, but hopefully it'd knock her off balance long enough to get them out.

Whether or not it would have counted was rendered irrelevant as the knife struck Vithvarandi's shoulder. She recoiled and gasped in pain, but it clearly wasn't a killing blow.

Hiccup drew another knife from his back holster, charging her while she was-

A plume of black fire slammed him back. Apparently, the transformation concealed a still very tangible body within the opaque flames. He was just grateful his clothing didn't catch on fire. Those black flames burned like fire, despite their unearthly appearance, and almost seemed to push him away.

Vithvarandi roared in rage, eyes burning with fury. Hiccup had a split second to realize she was pouncing, mouth open and teeth sharp. Any apparent reluctance to hurt him was gone. At least this way he'd go out fighting. If anything counted in getting someone to Valhalla, death by a shapeshifted human in the form of a Night Fury definitely would.

Toothless roared in helpless fear as Vithvarandi crashed down on Hiccup, her full weight almost crushing him.

Silence ruled the tunnel. He was still alive. Vithvarandi twitched.

At that moment, Hiccup realized what had happened. She had impaled herself on his hunting knife, at the same time as she cut her own throat open on his other dagger. Both done in the haste to attack, done by her own force and speed.

Hiccup felt a strange pressure in his palms, and he exhaled as the immense pain that had been building in his head abated. Blood ran down the knives.

A moment later, Vithvarandi's body crumbled. Hiccup could only watch in shock as the massive Night Fury broke down in front of his eyes, crumbling into an immensely fine black powder, reminiscent of ash but too dark to be just normal ash.

Toothless growled, eyeing something in the tunnel.

Hiccup looked up to see... Vithvarandi. The body of Hilda, more precisely. Glaring hatefully at him from a few feet away.

She spoke. "That was not at all what I meant." Her livid expression was oddly amusing on the young face she currently possessed. "Neither of us knew what that would do! It's never happened before! You could have somehow killed me for good, or it might not have counted!"

Hiccup shakily stood, brandishing the bloody knives. "Let. Us. Leave." He wanted off this horrible island, away from this woman.

Vithvarandi laughed, stepping aside. "You don't get it. I could kill you both. I'm nowhere near done. But there's no point."

Hiccup pulled at Toothless, trying to get his friend to walk past Vithvarandi while still pointing his knives at her. "No, there isn't." He was struck with a spark of inspiration. "Find someone who actually wants all of this." Ideally, she wouldn't. Another immortal mass-murderer was a bad thing. But he needed her to dismiss him, to forget about them both.

Vithvarandi considered him. "Maybe. But I only have one try left. If that fails..." Her expression was thoughtful. "Then we'll see." She disappeared into the darkness.

"Come on bud, we need to go." Hiccup laughed sourly as Toothless snorted, grabbing him and resuming their now painfully labored run. "Yeah, I know I don't have to tell you twice."

The escape from the tunnels went without further incident. Further confirmable incident, that was. Hiccup was pretty sure Vithvarandi was watching them from places unseen. Nevertheless, he had never been so happy to see dust, half-dead trees, and thorns. After what they had been through, those things felt downright benevolent in comparison.

Without hesitation Toothless leaped into the sky, fleeing that island as fast as he wings could take him, still dripping blood from the shallow gouge in his side. Together they fled, alive. If nothing else, alive.

O-O-O-O-O

Toothless dropped out of exhaustion on the first sea stack within the now comforting obscurity of the fog surrounding the abandoned nest. He moaned, curling around to lick his wound. Hiccup hurriedly took the saddle and prosthetic off, making his friend comfortable in any small way he could manage.

During that time, after they had both settled down, the reality of those last few moments began to set in. Hiccup caught Toothless casting him sideways glances.

The level of discomfort, almost fear, in Toothless's eyes almost broke Hiccup. He scooted closer, hugging his friend. "We're fine. You're fine. I don't think I'm going to die in the immediate future." The other side of that fact was one he wasn't ready to deal with yet. That spot in the back of his head was still there, no longer pulling. Just existing. He refrained from thinking about it.

Toothless rumbled cautiously, before whining and closing his eyes.

"I wish I knew what was bothering you." Hiccup smiled sadly. "You know, despite the lady who can apparently turn into dead people at will." It was pretty depressing that the only other Night Fury Hiccup had ever seen was technically dead.

That line of thought brought him back to ideas he'd rather not follow. He closed his eyes, still hugging Toothless's large head. "We'll be fine. Get some rest." It was past midnight, he had noticed, before they entered the fog. "Tomorrow, we can go back to..." He didn't want to stress Toothless now, of all times. "The cove." That place was safe, but still a bit private. They could recover more there.

He realized he had sheathed both knives. The one he had thrown was still... Well, he had never heard it hit the ground. It must... still be in Vithvarandi's shoulder? The shoulder of that body, anyway? Odd. Either way, he was immensely grateful Toothless had insisted he so arm himself those weeks ago.

Though, the use to which he had accidentally and intentionally put the knives to was one he could never have predicted. Throwing with intent to kill, and missing. Killing by pure accident. A Night Fury, of all things.

"Gods." Hiccup whispered quietly, so as to not let Toothless hear the bitter realization he just had to voice. "I killed a Night Fury." The paradoxical horror of that statement made him laugh bitterly. Of course, he killed a Night Fury by accident, now of all times. Now that it was the last thing he wanted to do. Before everything, this would have been a dream come true. Now, it was a nightmare.

They woke sometime the next day. Both were restless and unsettled. Needless to say, they left quickly.

Toothless was still eyeing Hiccup strangely, but he didn't protest their departure. The flight was smooth, as always. Both parties were left with ample time to think. Hiccup tried to not think, which was unusual for him. If he had his way, they'd both forget about what happened on that island.

Toothless swerved away from Berk, circling around so as to not be seen by anyone around the village, dropping into the cove with what Hiccup could have sworn was a sigh of relief.

The cove was peaceful, as always. Verdant greenery mixed against the backdrop of the light grey cliffs and pure blue water, reflecting the cloudless sky above. It was a beautiful Spring day, a rarity on Berk. Hail and rain were far more common in the Spring.

It served as a jarring juxtaposition to the mental turmoil Hiccup was experiencing. Here, in a place he had always associated with peace, his mind was in turmoil, no longer entirely his own. That little space Vithvarandi's actions had created was still there, a void in the back of his head, existing silently.

Now that they were somewhere safe, Hiccup felt he had to figure this out. He forced himself to go over what Vithvarandi had said, leaning against a stone outcropping. Toothless was drinking from the pond.

Seeing his friend brought to mind that Vithvarandi had wanted him to kill Toothless. Why? To take his form. Or else he would die.

But he had chosen death instead. Vithvarandi had, once convinced of that, decided to kill Toothless herself, as payment. All of this tied into what she had explained.

The issue was, he wasn't dead. And by Vithvarandi's logic, that meant he had killed her. That body, anyway. So what, exactly, was he now?

He turned his hand over, staring at the scars on his palms. These marked him and Vithvarandi the same. By that logic...

An internal war raged within Hiccup. Morbid curiosity fought horror. That void in his head begged to be mentally investigated, looked at. He didn't doubt there was something there. But this ability felt wrong, and no wonder. If he could get rid of it, he'd do so without hesitation. But from everything Vithvarandi had said, that wasn't possible. Was it better to ignore this new part of him, or to understand it?

The real question was, did he trust himself?

There was a practical side to this too. He needed to see exactly what had happened. Vithvarandi had never explained the steps after killing to stabilize the ability. Maybe because he had killed her, in an already dead body, it didn't fully count?

That would be the best case scenario. Not going to die, but not given the ability either. Hiccup clung to that, suddenly certain that was what had happened. He quickly focused on the void in his head, hoping to see that it was as empty as that theory suggested.

Big mistake.

The last two things he saw were heartbreaking and terrifying, respectively. Toothless, staring at him in utter horror, and a stream of dark blue fire flooding from his palms, crawling up his arms at lightning speed. All went black, or more accurately, all went _blue_ as the flames enveloped him.

What had he done?

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Last cliffhanger for a while, I promise. Well, assuming you don't take the ending of next chapter as a cliffhanger. It really isn't, but who knows. Also, I will say now, next chapter is not what you are likely expecting. At all.**

 **Speaking of expecting things, credit to** _ **toothlessgolfer**_ **for obliquely calling the resolution to Hiccup's dilemma, though I will say that what you implied is not entirely correct. Exactly what you did not predict will become apparent in the next chapter.**


	6. Ember

_**Author's Note:**_ **This is a long one, for a reason that will be apparent by the end. Enjoy.**

Sound. That was the first thing it became aware of. A steady thumping, regular and comforting.

Later, the sounds changed. The thumping was there, always there, but there were other, different noises. Soothing ones, exciting ones. Over time, it began to understand, if not the meaning, the intent. Comfort. Safety. Anticipation. Encouragement.

Some time later, impatience manifested itself. A primal urge to stretch, to break free. It pushed with unused limbs, straining against the confines of the world. The world didn't budge. It pushed harder, as hard as it was capable of. A new, welcome sound occurred. A crack that signified progress.

By degrees, those cracks were repeated, as it pushed more. Eventually, the world gave in, and it slid out the side, into the unknown.

Instinct took over, and it found itself gasping for air, something never done before. Cold hit it for the first time, and for the first time, it made a noise of its own, voicing its discomfort.

A warm and comforting thing caressed it, removing the liquid covering its face. At the same time, those noises of safety and encouragement resumed, emanating from somewhere nearby. It used new muscles to open its eyes.

Sight was a shock, and it couldn't make sense of the bright and dull blurs confronting it. A wail of fright escaped it.

The soothing one moved closer, enveloping it in the dark. The warm, comforting black, unbroken by the new colors.

By degrees it fell asleep, comforted.

O-O-O-O-O

Another new sensation woke it. A pain inside it. The comforting one understood, apparently. Something that smelled- a new sensation it might have reveled in had the circumstances been different- good was put near to it. Driven by instinct, it greedily swallowed the slimy chunks of pain-soothing stuff. Sleep was not long in returning, now that the pain was gone. The comforting one readily reembraced it.

O-O-O-O-O

Life was a string of new experiences. Its eyes cleared slowly, allowing the recognition of more than just shapes and colors. It realized that there were two comforting ones, not just one. Smells became familiar. Home. Food. The comforting ones.

It by degrees gained control of its limbs. The four stubby legs, the two flimsy wings. The thin and long tail, with two flappable fins on the ends.

The comforting ones had voiced noises of amusement when it had discovered that last fact and flapped the tailfins in excitement.

And of course, it's mouth. These movable teeth. It quickly learned when it was better to have the teeth out, like for grabbing those chunks of food. It also learned when it was better not to have them out, such as when playing with a comforting one's massive paws or tail.

They were like it in shape, just huge. It was pretty sure they could carry it around in their mouths if they wanted. It felt no fear at that idea. Trust was fully given, and it couldn't fathom the thought of them hurting it.

O-O-O-O-O

By degrees, it began to pick up what the comforting ones meant with their noises. In this way, it learned to think of itself as 'he'. He also learned to refer to the comforting ones with different sounds, depending on which it was. The one colored as the walls of their home, a dark grey, he was taught to call Dam. The one colored as the distant world outside their home, a pale green, he called Sire.

Those were not the ways they called each other though. Through listening, he picked up that Sire called Dam one-with-sharp-claws-like-sharp-plants, and Dam called Sire green-one-like-the-plants-of-healing. He wasn't sure what those names meant, so he was content to say Sire and Dam.

O-O-O-O-O

He grew, both mentally and physically. It was a great day when Sire took him outside of their home, the cave, for the first time. He was blinded by the bright light in the sky, but the soft green stuff Sire called grass entranced him. Trips outside became the highlight of his day.

Sadly, at least for him, they could not spend all day every day outside. Dam spent much time speaking to him, teaching him the nuances of their language by example. He learned to differentiate between a growl that meant 'I am angry with you' and a subtly lighter growl that instead meant 'I am not actually angry, but that was a stupid thing to do'.

That last one he heard quite a lot. When he accidentally bit down on his own tail, for instance. Or when he tried to climb on Sire's back and fell face first onto the ground. However, he very much preferred the reassuring purrs that signified comfort and consolation afterward.

O-O-O-O-O

Time passed. The days blurred in passing. It grew colder and warmer repeatedly, and he grew with the changing of temperature. Sire and Dam no longer tore his food apart, trusting him to eat without assistance. He grew, wings expanding to match the rest of his body.

It was in this time that he realized they were alone. He at one point brought it up, as Dam watched him run through the grass outside the cave. "Where are others?" An inquisitive croon, followed by a tilt of the head. As he grew, he heard the individual sounds less and less, and instead understood their meaning.

"Not here." Dam purred, sticking a paw out to stop him from running around for a moment. "You are lonely?"

He wasn't sure what that last word meant, exactly, but the idea was clear. "No. Just wondering."

Dam sighed. "We are few. The embers of our kind."

Sire dropped to land beside her, nuzzling her neck. "Embers can restart a fire. We are not gone yet."

He looked up at Sire curiously.

Sire laughed, a coughing sound. "You are an ember. One-who-restarts-the-fire. That is your name."

He blinked. "I am?"

Dam purred, pawing at his small wings. "Yes. The perfect color for that name too. Orange, with yellow eyes. An ember."

He shook his head. "Which am I? An ember, or one-who-restarts-the-fire?"

"Both." Sire nodded at himself. "Your Dam calls me green-one-like-the-plants-of-healing. It means Herb. And I call her one-with-sharp-claws-like-sharp-plants. That means Thorn. Either is correct."

"So I am Ember." He liked that.

O-O-O-O-O

Ember was forced to revise his opinion on whether or not he was lonely eventually. He confided in Sire this time, several seasons later. "I wish to meet others. It is boring here."

Sire made a big deal of looking him over. "You have grown well. Almost half my size already, in four Winters."

Half Sire's size? He was sure he was bigger than that. "I am big."

"Big enough, I think. Follow." Sire turned and left the cave.

Ember trotted after him, forced to maintain a pace near running to keep up with Sire's brisk walk. Maybe he wasn't that big after all. Sire took him to the top of their hill, overlooking the boundless trees he was forbidden from going into. He turned back, looking at their range. A small valley, a few trees standing amidst tall grass, ringed protectively by stone bluffs, the endless water Sire called the sea around the stone.

Sire put a paw under his chin, pulling him to look at the forbidden trees. "Out there, there are many things."

Ember nodded. There were not many things here, so where else could they be?

"Some good, some bad." Sire nodded at a faint speck approaching from the distance. "Dam is good. She hunts something other than sea-swimmers for our next meal."

That was good news. Ember liked sea-swimmers, but variety was a rare treat. "That is Dam?"

"Yes." Sire nodded at the forest again. "Pay attention. There are good things there. But also bad things. Many bad things." His tone was dark, a faint growl resonating from his chest. "You cannot have one without the other. Telling which is which may also be difficult. This is why you were not allowed to leave the valley."

"But..." Ember looked up at Sire. "Now?"

"Not quite," Sire whined, nuzzling Ember. "When you are ready, we will not hold you here. Then you can go and explore, find others. This is our home. We will stay. That journey you make on your own. It is the way of life."

Ember whined in return, confidence gone at the idea of being without Sire and Dam by his side. "I do not want to leave."

"And you do not have to right now." Sire purred, his head on Ember's back. "We will not force you to leave either, and you are far from ready. When the time is right, you will know."

O-O-O-O-O

After that, Sire and Dam began to teach him many things. From Dam, he learned what plants were dangerous, which fish were poisonous. He also learned which were good to eat, and what plants had soothing properties on injuries, like those his Sire was named after.

Sire took him into the woods. Their first trip was solely so that Ember could get over the novelty of this new environment. He spent a whole day playing among the trees, jumping and leaping off of those useful and sturdy supports so close together. His claws were strong, his footing sure. The entire time, Sire watched him carefully, one eye on him and one on the surroundings. Ember got the impression that this place, though fun and different, was not totally safe. It drained a tiny bit of the enthusiasm out of him.

The next time they ventured into the forest, Sire did not let him play long. After a few minutes, Ember was told to pay attention, and Sire took him deeper into the woods.

Sire leaned over and lightly pawed at an indent in a patch of mud. "Ember. Smell this."

Ember obliged him and sneezed at the new scent. "What is it?"

"Food." Sire nodded at the indent. "When hunting, always be looking for things like this. The marks of food passing." He growled. "Not all marks signify food. If it smells dangerous, do not follow it. It might see you as food instead."

Ember quivered. "Me, food?"

Sire nodded. "Right now, you are vulnerable. Small, inexperienced. Later, few things will see you as prey." He shook his head. "Except for No-scaled-not-prey. They are always dangerous, even though they smell like food. Never hunt them."

"What are No-scaled-not-prey?" Ember didn't like the sound of them. "Why do they smell like food if they are not?"

"They are... like us." Sire sounded uncomfortable. "Food does not think beyond the moment. No-scaled-not-prey do, like we do. They plan, think, speak to each other. So they look like food, smell like food. But it is wrong to hunt them. It would be like another one of us hunting you. Bad."

Ember nodded. He would not hunt those. "Are there any around?"

Sire rumbled comfortingly. "No. That is why we live here. No No-scaled-not-prey, and no rival kin to compete with, for a long way. We are alone, and that is safe."

O-O-O-O-O

They tracked the food for a while, but Sire eventually stopped, motioning for Ember to be silent. "Watch carefully. I will show you how this is done. The food always tries to run." Sire leaped out into the open, pouncing on a strange fleshy shape Ember recognized from when Sire or Dam brought back different food on occasion. He moved into the open to see Sire pinning it to the ground.

Sire made eye contact. "Remember this, and teach your offspring. Food is not like us. But we are not monsters. A quick kill is best." He placed a claw on the food's midsection. "Here, if you must, though it is not quick." The claw moved to the legs. "These only if it is getting away." He moved his claw to its throat. "Here is best. Or the head in general, if you can. Everywhere else is needless suffering." With a swift jerk, he cut its throat, and its thrashing stilled. "Do you understand?"

Ember nodded solemnly. It made sense. "Can I try?"

O-O-O-O-O

The seasons continued to pass. Ember developed into a proficient hunter, though he didn't so much enjoy the kill as he did the chase. It all ended the same way, but the chase was different every time. He enjoyed the rare food that truly evaded him almost as much as a successful hunt. In his mind, it deserved to live if it could outwit him.

Dam had taught him to fly. Her lessons had been simple and effective. She had taken him high above the ocean, and dropped him. Gliding was knowledge acquired on the way down. From there, it had simply been practice. So much practice.

He stood by the sea, staring at his rippling reflection. An orange dragon with dark yellow eyes stared back at him. He looked like his Sire in size and build, bulkier than his Dam.

Dam walked up to stand by him. "What do you see?"

Ember replied without thought. "I look like Sire."

"You do." Dam placed a wing over him. "Do you feel anything?"

Ember thought about her odd question. "Not really. What do you mean?"

Dam sighed. "You will know when it comes. I will miss you. My firstborn and maybe only hatchling, growing up."

He squirmed at that. "I am not a hatchling anymore."

"No, you are not." Dam whined softly. "Promise me, please. When you do leave, if you ever find a mate and have hatchlings of your own, bring them back to meet us. I would like to see you live up to your name."

"A mate?!" Ember reared back. "Who said anything about that?"

"I did." Dam laughed at his affronted expression. "Forget it for now. Feel free to stay my hatchling for as long as you want."

Ember grumbled wordlessly. But what Dam had said stuck in his mind. He didn't want to leave. But someday, maybe.

O-O-O-O-O

That day arrived eventually. A need to explore, to find others of his kind drove Ember to leave. He had confided in Sire that he planned on going soon.

Sire laughed. "Not quite yet."

"Why not?"

"You do not know anything about how we choose mates. How did you expect it would go?" There was a light tone to his voice, almost amused.

Ember wilted. "I did not really think about it."

"As I thought." Sire purred, nudging his head back up. "I can tell you. One last lesson."

"Please?"

"Of course." Sire sat down, motioning for Ember to do the same. "We do it like this. First, obviously, you need to find a female of our kind." His eyes narrowed. "Our kind, exactly. Not another kin who looks similar, but not quite. No eggs can be made from such a pairing."

Ember nodded. That made sense. "One who looks like us."

"Yes. Then, you get to know her." Sire grimaced, his teeth briefly showing. "This is not how most do it, but I personally find that step necessary. If she likes you enough, and you like her, she will stay with you. If she is with you when Spring comes, and is still with you when Summer arrives, then you are mates. Spring is when all dragons feel the urge. You might have to fight other dragons for her favor if she is flighty or uncertain."

Ember didn't like that possibility. "Why would we fight?"

"Ideally, you find a mate who does not want you to fight for her. One who has no doubts. That is why I say get to know her first. But if she cannot choose, the two fight to determine who would be better able to protect her and the eggs. That way, the species as a whole is stronger."

"Understood."

"You know all you need to know, then." Sire stood. "I wish you safe travels. And you had better come back to visit every once in a while."

O-O-O-O-O

Ember said goodbye to Sire and Dam, and the next morning he set off, flying over the boundless tracts of forest, away from the valley he had called home. Life became more difficult, relying solely on his own efforts to survive. As the seasons passed, so did the endless miles, and so did his inexperience. He grew more capable, faster, smarter even, as the endless journey sharpened his reflexes and his wits. The feeling of endless loneliness drove him forward, always searching for another of his kind.

He saw many dragons as he journeyed, and many things that simply did not exist in his home range. Dragons unlike him in almost every way, dragons with two wings, four, two legs, no legs even. Every color imaginable, on every shape imaginable. He even at one point saw what he thought was others of his kind. But they were not. They were different, if only slightly. Smooth scales and a strange way of hiding marked them too different. His Sire's caution ruled the strange female dragon among that group out. She was not one of his kind, though so similar he almost doubted his Sire.

In the end, she made the choice for him and left the area when her group did. He journeyed onward, a bit discouraged. So very many seasons passed, and he had never even caught a glimpse of another like him. His Dam's worries that they were disappearing resonated with him more with each passing cycle of cold and warmth.

O-O-O-O-O

Eventually, though, he found what he was looking for.

He had traveled far, so far, though not in a straight line. Home was months, possibly years away at this point, even if he flew straight there. Setting down on a rock ledge overlooking a pond, he watched night fall, discouraged. It had been so long.

A hauntingly familiar screech resounded, pulling him up out of his thoughts. That had been one of his kind. Not even the white one so close and yet different had made that sound when firing. Where had it come from?

The trees beyond this ledge, the forest he would have flown over the next day, to continue his search.

Another screech sounded, this one pained. At the same time, faint noises of fear and anger could be heard in that same direction, noises no dragon would make.

Without further thought he leaped into action, running into the dark forest, unable to fly there due to dense tree cover. The sounds he heard made it clear this was a fight.

He zoned in on the noises, and soon he could see the conflict. His heart leaped and shattered at the same time.

It was one like him, a dragon in the spitting image of his Dam and Sire. A female, judging by her proportions. Not old, but not young either. Mature.

And she was fighting strange prey he recognized by their danger despite the food scent. These must be No-scaled-not-prey. Because they were definitely threatening her. One was on the ground, not moving, and the other three were advancing, yelling in rage.

The female was growling, favoring her left paw, which was dripping blood. She snarled, speaking despite the fact that they couldn't hear her. "Food does not fight back! Stop it!"

Ember almost laughed at that indignant statement. He figured intervention might be appreciated. A quick fireball distracted them, and he barked to get her attention. "Leave them while they cannot see."

The female's mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of him, but she saw the wisdom in his words. She grabbed the fallen one and bounded after him.

He brought her back to the ledge he had found, stopping there. "Why did you bring it with you?"

"I need food. These prey are strange, but this will do." She dropped it, clearly considering the best way to eat it.

Ember recalled what his Sire had said. "No. No-scaled-not-prey should not be hunted or eaten."

"Why not?" The female snarled, glaring at Ember. "They smell like food. And they hurt me."

"They are not food. My Sire said they are like us, not like prey. We do not eat each other, so we should not eat them." It was a principle Sire had repeated often enough, in their hunting lessons. One did not eat other dragons or No-scaled-not-prey. Everything else was fair game.

The female clearly hadn't thought of that. She dropped the body, snorting in frustration. "But I need food."

"I will get something. Wait here." Ember left into the forest, intent on hunting something more edible for her. He had found a female of his kind. The search might be over.

O-O-O-O-O

He dragged a large deer back to the rock an hour later, panting through exertion. Carrying something this heavy long distances on foot was not enjoyable. His neck had a cramp.

The female was still there waiting curiously. She sniffed the air, purring. "That is good. For me?"

"Yes." He dropped the deer. "For you."

She tore into it, eating ravenously. Once she had finished, she looked over at him cautiously. "You are the first one like me I have met."

"Same." He sighed. "We are so rare."

"Yes. It is lonely." She moved closer. "Can we... travel together?" Her voice was uncertain. "You seem to know more of the world than I do. It would be helpful for me to learn what you know."

"Of course." Ember purred. "It is lonely, traveling alone."

O-O-O-O-O

Winter came and went. The two traveled together, as the female had requested. Ember took the time to get to know her. She was grey though of a different shade compared to his Dam, almost black, and her pale grey eyes were flecked with silver streaks.

He also came to realize that she had quite a sharp temper, though it hid a softer side. Emotions were close to the surface with her, ready to cut in an instant of aggravation, though she never let it cut anyone, taking her frustration out safely. One event, in particular, stood out among all the interactions of those months.

She had just landed badly on a sharp rock. He had warned her that it would be safer to land slowly, but they were both impatient to set down after a long day's flight, and she couldn't wait. The angered yowls and roars echoed, startling birds in the distant trees.

He landed when it was safe to approach, finding her glaring at a sharp rock. "Are you okay?"

"Of course!" She fired a small blast at the rock, shattering it. "That stupid rock is not so lucky."

Ember laughed. "You are as sharp as it is." That brought something to mind. "I am realizing that I do not know your name."

She stared at him. "Name? I do not have one. What point is there?"

He thought about it. "There is not really a point. But they can mean things. Like a way of saying who you are. What makes you different."

"What is yours?" She seemed genuinely curious.

"One-who-restarts-the-fire. Ember." He shrugged. "It means me. I like having something that means me, and not just our kind."

"Ember." She purred. "I like it too. Can you give me a name?"

"Sure." He thought about it. "How about 'One-whose-temper-cuts-like-rock'? It is accurate. Flint."

She grinned, a feral expression that had a dark undertone. "Perfect. Flint."

O-O-O-O-O

Spring rolled around, and the two of them were something more than friends. Ember hadn't actually realized it at first, though looking back Flint certainly knew. They had decided to spend a while at a mountain, one populated by dragons of all kinds, at Flint's request. It wasn't until halfway through the Spring that he remembered Sire's words.

'If she is with you when Spring comes, and is still with you when Summer arrives, then you are mates.'

He wasn't sure if Flint knew that though. She had demonstrated a surprising lack of knowledge in some areas. This might be one of them. So, one night, he sought her out and had her follow him to an isolated spot. Mainly so that the gossiping two-winged-two-legged-beak-kin wouldn't overhear. He squirmed for a moment, embarrassed and a bit worried. He liked her, but what if she didn't return the feeling? They had never found another of their kind. But she might leave and keep looking anyway.

"What is it, Ember?" Flint's voice was a bit worried.

"I wanted to ask you something." Ember steeled himself. "You know why all these dragons are here, right?" It was clearly a mating ground, especially given more dragons were arriving every day. The intent was obvious. A place dragons chose mates, if not laid eggs. That part varied by species.

Flint relieved his worries with a sly smile and offhanded reply. "Why do you think I wanted to stop here?"

"So does that mean-"

"Yes." Flint sighed, looking at him happily. "You really think I would be stupid enough not to get the implications? Besides, I like you."

Ember purred loudly. "The feeling is mutual."

O-O-O-O-O

A few days later, that resolve was tested. Ember watched with a peculiar mixture of relief and apprehension as another kin like himself arrived at the nesting grounds, a male. He was large, a striking blue, and extremely forward in why he was there. The other dragons pointed him toward Flint quickly, cowed by his aggressive nature.

Ember dropped down, landing in between the newcomer and Flint. "It is good to see another of us." He might as well start the conversation politely.

The newcomer laughed. "I have seen plenty of us, over the years. We are not quite gone yet. But it is good to see her." He gestured behind Ember at Flint. "Now, step aside."

"No," Ember growled. "You cannot have her. Besides, she clearly does not like you." The growl originating from behind him proved that.

"So?" The male laughed. "I am not staying. Our species needs to survive. Feel free to stay with one female. I search them out, making sure we do not just die out. My bloodline is strong. Better than yours, I am sure."

Ember snarled. "You cannot be serious." Dam had made it very clear. It was the duty of the Sire to help raise any hatchlings, and to stay with the Dam unless both agreed to separate. This male was just leaving Dams in his wake, alone. It was so very wrong of him to do that.

"I am." The male shoved Ember, his head pushing him back. "Feel free to stay and look after my egg. But our species needs the strongest members it can get."

Ember bit into the male's shoulder, drawing blood. "Monster."

The male wrenched out of his grip, snarling and unsheathing his claws. "Weakling."

Ember launched forward, powerful hind legs propelling him across the short distance, front claws gashing the blue male's chest. The male stumbled back, clawing at Ember's face. Ember ducked, his head against the male's chest, still ripping through tough scale and skin with his claws.

The male rolled sideways, dislodging him. He attacked immediately afterward, teeth ripping into Ember's shoulder.

Ember retaliated with a swipe of his tail, catching the male in the eye. He growled, and the two disengaged, circling each other.

The male had sheer size and muscle. But Ember had something else. Sire had taught him to fight, so long ago in the valley. This was familiar, if for real now. The male clearly wasn't thinking before he attacked. Instinct versus planning and forethought.

They tangled again, clawing and biting. Ember shredded the male's ear, but the male got in a deep gash on his side. But Ember wasn't letting this-

The male kicked out, sending him soaring. He hit the ground, rolling hard on impact. Everything hurt.

The male didn't come over and finish him off. Ember tried to force himself up, especially when he heard the male laughing and Flint snarling.

But by the time he could stand, it was over… and not in the way he had feared.

Flint stood over the body of the male, coldly watching him bleed out, a dozen deep gashes in his stomach and neck. She met Ember's eyes. "A monster like him does not deserve to live." Her voice was pure rage. "Any dragon that just uses a female and moves on is a menace."

Several nearby dragons murmured in agreement. Ember realized that while he knew much, he didn't know a lot about society in general. He had only had his own convictions to tell him what the male described was wrong. Apparently, it was a condemned behavior in the world as a whole. Good to know.

Flint's rage was visibly leaving her. She shuddered at the sight of Ember's wounds and rushed over to him. "You will be fine, right?"

He nodded. "Nothing life-threatening." It was nice that she was licking his wounds clean though. He purred, nuzzling her. "I would take far worse in your defense. Even if it seems to me you do not need much defending."

Flint laughed. "It is still nice to have someone watching my back." She looked around. "This place is for finding mates. We should go."

Ember recalled that the male had simply shown up. He pitied any who had been used by the male prior to this day. Now he wasn't so eager to meet others of their kind. "We should."

O-O-O-O-O

They flew, searching for a place to call their own. Ember recalled the valley that had been his home, and he guided their search to find a place similar. It had been good. Safe, secure. Isolated. He was beginning, after so much time mingling with other dragons, to think isolation was preferable. Well, isolation with someone he liked, anyway.

Eventually, they found somewhere that both he and Flint agreed was perfect. A small island in the middle of nowhere, one just large enough to support occasional hunting, and of course surrounded by limitless food in the ocean. The mainland was just within sight on one side, and on the other, only a set of oddly spherical sea stacks could be seen if the weather was good. Both island and the mainland were completely devoid of anything bigger than deer. No dragons, no No-scaled-not-prey. It was perfect.

Together, they dug into the side of a small hill, lacking a cave to use. It was not nearly as clean as a cave would have been, but for some reason, Flint liked that. "Let our hatchlings know the soft dirt and grass. Stone is hard and unforgiving."

He was noticing that Flint's lightning temper and sharp tongue disappeared when she was talking about future hatchlings. That was a good sign. She would be a good mother.

O-O-O-O-O

The first egg was a sight Ember had long wondered about. What would it look like? He was understandably quite curious.

Now if only Flint would let him actually see it!

"Come on, please. I just want to look." Ember whined for emphasis, curling his claws back and trying to look harmless.

"No. No one but me gets near it." Flint's voice softened as she saw her mate's sadness. "That is just how this works. I will not be so possessive once it hatches."

"Hopefully," Ember grumbled, sitting down. "Can you at least move so I can look at it from here? I cannot even see it."

"That is a good compromise." Flint shifted, revealing a large, chunky egg that seemed fashioned out of black leather, almost. It might have just been Ember's imagination, but he thought he could see it pulsing slightly.

"It is good." He sighed, getting up. "I suppose you want food." His voice was light. "Or can you catch it with an egg in tow?"

She growled playfully at him. "That is your job."

O-O-O-O-O

They spent weeks like that. Ember stayed with Flint as often as possible, talking to her to pass the time. It helped that he could vaguely remember what it was like to be in an egg and that the voices of the future hatchling's parents would offer comfort if heard often enough now. They discussed life, the past, the future. Flint had latched onto the idea of names quite quickly, and much time was spent discussing how it should be given. Ember was in favor of waiting and seeing, while Flint wanted to name the hatchling as soon as they could see it.

She made one argument Ember was hard-pressed to dispute. "I remember growing up thinking of myself as it or she. Would not a name be better?"

He couldn't argue that. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing that they'd name the hatchling as soon as they could.

O-O-O-O-O

The day finally arrived that it hatched. Ember watched closely, remembering what it had been like to be on the other side of the shell. "Come on, you can do it." The words wouldn't be understood, but the feeling behind them of encouragement would.

The hatchling emerged some time later, drenched in egg liquid. It mewled plaintively as Flint cleaned it off.

Flint eyed it once it had fallen asleep between her paws. "He is yellow."

"What of his eyes?" Ember hadn't seen them, as the hatchling had only briefly opened them.

"White, almost. A hint of silver." Flint huffed thoughtfully. "What was it your Sire told you when he named you?"

"That I was the ember of our species."

Flint purred. "Then he is the-spark-of-a-new-fire. Spark. You reignited our species, just a little. Spark."

"I like it." Ember eyed Flint. "But do you plan on him being our only spark, so to speak?"

"Not at all." Flint laughed. "We were both only hatchlings. Spark will have a little brother or sister to play with eventually."

O-O-O-O-O

The seasons again passed, a joyful time for everyone on their little island. Spark grew quickly, so much faster than Ember remembered his own childhood, which had been tinted with the impatience of youth. And he wasn't alone. Their second son, Beryl, was with him. Seeing the two play together, yellow scales clashing against pure black, white eyes meeting green eyes. Such green eyes, ones that had given Beryl his name.

The two were as different as they looked. Spark was cautious, and very closely attached to Ember. Beryl, however, followed Flint around most of the time and was far more outgoing. The two worked well together, though sometimes Ember caught himself second-guessing which was the older. Beryl had quickly taken Spark under his wing once they both had hit a certain age, despite being the younger by a full season cycle. That protective instinct was far more present in Beryl than Spark.

He loved both of his sons. And, as they grew, teaching them to fly brought memories that had faded to mind.

How long had it been? He had promised Dam to bring his mate and hatchlings back to visit. But the many, many Winters between then and the time he found Flint had made him forget. In his defense, forty-something Winters was a very long time. But he still felt awful for forgetting.

He informed Flint of his failure. She responded lightly. "Well, just wait until Spark and Beryl get old enough to go with us, and then we can go make good on your promise. No harm done, though you are a little late."

O-O-O-O-O

Ember stalked through the forest of the mainland, on high alert. Not so much for prey. He had already found a likely target. No, he wanted to be extra-sure nothing worse lurked in the woods. Beryl and Spark were trailing behind him, watching carefully.

He went through the motions of teaching them both to hunt, just as his Sire had done with him. His focus was more on how Beryl and Spark reacted. Both nodded seriously, just as he had. He told them to pass the knowledge of a clean kill on.

This last part though, he changed slightly. "There is one kind of animal in the world that you must not hunt, even though it smells like prey. No-scaled-not-prey are not to be eaten. And they are dangerous."

Beryl growled. "Why not?" He spoke for himself and Spark, who had tilted his head curiously.

Ember thought back to his few encounters with those beings. "They think like us, communicate like us. You would not hunt your brother, would you?"

Spark recoiled, shaking his head. Beryl on the other hand snarled. "They are not like Spark. He is not dangerous." He seemed to reconsider that. "To me, anyway."

"That is true." Ember shook his head. "Best to avoid them."

O-O-O-O-O

Spark and Beryl were off flying in the distance, above the sea. Ember didn't worry... much. They knew not to get too far away. Besides, he was enjoying some quiet time with Flint, a rare commodity with two almost fully grown hatchlings bumbling around.

Flint lazed on the beach, sighing contentedly at the sight of their hatchlings in the distance. Ember lay beside her.

He spoke. "They can fly now."

"Yes." She purred. "Ready to take that trip?"

"Almost." Ember laughed. "We should go soon. Otherwise, we might have a third egg to wait for."

Flint slapped him with her tail. "Control yourself. We can wait. Although I do want a girl."

"So do I." He purred, looking at her. "Eventually."

"We can just keep trying." She stood. "Though it might take-"

The sand exploded outward, enveloping Flint. Ember jerked to his feet, roaring in shock.

What he saw next might have haunted him for the rest of his life. Flint had been thrown a dozen feet away, into the surf. She was bleeding heavily, her neck and chest shredded in a circular wound. A fatal wound. Their eyes met for a second, and she choked. "Protect... them."

His vision turned red as her eyes closed. He whirled, full-out screaming at her killer.

The Spinning-Teeth-No-legs dragon launched itself at him, laughing the entire time. It spoke, as they tangled, as its spines dug into him, its teeth shredded his scales. "Good. This body is aggravating."

His vision began to darken, and he lashed out ever more feebly, the strength leeching from his limbs. The last things he saw were depressingly hopeless. Flint's body was already gone. It must have been pulled away by the water somehow. His sons were still out there in the distance. He could only hope they ran. Because there was nothing he could do now.

The darkness fell, his final thought one of agony. Flint had wanted him to protect their sons. He had failed before he could even begin.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Well, that was a bit of a dark ending. Many things in this chapter are important, including some that do not seem so at the time. Also, in case anyone is unhappy with having to wait another week to find out what is transpiring in the cove, I once again announce that next chapter will be posted on the 31st of October, with the chapter following posted the next day. By next Saturday we will be on chapter 9.**

 **As a side note: in this universe, dragons do not generally take names at all. It is a quirk of Furies, and not even all Furies, something kept and passed down by the Fury family followed in this chapter. This will be explored in slightly more detail later.**

 **As an extremely irrelevant side note, there are two hints towards a sequel to this story buried in this chapter, one somewhat obvious and the other all but impossible to see except in hindsight. More information on the sequel will be given at the end of this story. It's not at all important to this story, so don't think too hard about it.**


	7. Trauma

He opened his eyes, mind spinning. A place of still water, greenery, and cliffs swam idly into view, wavering as his body recovered. He stood, shakily.

What was he?

Who was he?

Those questions weren't as easy to answer as he would have liked. So many memories, flooding into his mind. He had lived Ember's life. The entire thing. All sixty-something years of it, as best he could tell. Some parts stood out, but in those moments he had been spared _nothing_. It really had been like living that life. And then he had his old memories, the fifteen or so years from Hiccup. The majority of his experience in life didn't come from Hiccup anymore. It came from Ember.

He gasped, the last moments of that life hitting him. He had _died_. Literally feeling the strength leave him for the last time, the grievous wounds torn into his chest. That wasn't even the worst part.

"Flint." That name, choked out, broke him. He cried, head bowed. She was gone. And despite the corner of his mind telling him he never really knew her, memory trumped logic. Especially when that memory was so vivid. Was there a difference now, whether or not he had personally lived through what he could remember? It didn't feel like it.

A corner of his mind wondered how old he was now. If one judged by memory, he could remember something around seventy-five years total.

A startled whine broke him out of his frantic thoughts. He looked up to see a black Night Fury with piercing green eyes staring at him in utter horror.

Two parts of him struggled for control at that moment. Though it wasn't a struggle so much as confusion, his mind putting two different names to the one in front of him. He shook his head, before realizing the other part of his problem.

He was still Ember. Here, now, in the cove. The wings on his back were pretty good proof on their own, but he knew this body as he knew his own. It was his own. If anyone besides Ember could lay claim to it, he could. Was this how Vithvarandi felt about every single body she had taken?

Maybe. But there was a difference here, he was sure. He still didn't think any of this was right, or good.

Those thoughts needed to wait in line. Right now, that other Night Fury he still couldn't decisively name even in his head was panicking. He choked out another word, deciding for the moment to use the name he knew how to say in his current form. "Beryl."

His voice was deep, the name a warble. It didn't feel strange, but then, he had spoken that way for sixty years.

Beryl jerked back, eyeing him suspiciously. "I don't know which you are." His voice was one Hiccup knew and yet didn't. He knew the sound of his best friend but didn't understand him. Or, he knew what Beryl sounded like as a child, but not now, as an adult. The two combined were disorienting.

Hiccup groaned. "Neither do I, really." He shook his head, trying to regain control of his own mind. "The boy you knew is still here." He didn't know how to say his own name like this. "But I remember... everything. His entire life. Like I lived it." With all the trauma that implied.

Beryl growled. "Please, change back. This is wrong. A cruel taunt."

Hiccup moaned, shaking his head violently. "I know! I'm not sure how!"

"Figure it out!" Toothless snarled, pacing closer. His voice was sorrowful and angry at the same time. "Please!"

The raw pain in his voice forced Hiccup to concentrate. He ignored everything he had just gained and tried to think back to what he had done to trigger all of this. That void in his mind was still there. He mentally poked at it, but nothing happened. Desperate now, he envisioned his human self, the scrawny boy down a leg with no visible muscle, and poked that spot with the image he had created.

It reacted, and he exhaled in relief as the dark blue flames he remembered from the moment before Ember's memories hit him reemerged, transforming him. It didn't hurt, per say, but now that he was awake to experience it, he could feel his skin crawling, bones shrinking, limbs disappearing. What was even odder was feeling his prosthetic and clothing emerging from his body as part of him. Although, that was definitely better than the alternative. He had no desire to come back without clothes or a leg to stand on.

When the flames receded from his vision, he beheld Beryl, looking a bit less on the brink of total panic. Toothless. Beryl.

The body of Ember might be gone, but his memories remained. They hadn't faded in the slightest with the changing of forms.

"Thank you."

Apparently, having heard and understood dragons for sixty years transferred over. He still understood Toothless easily and clearly, just barely registering that said thanks was voiced in a high-pitched purr which underlaid the statement with worry and stress. He mostly heard the words and tone.

That fact on its own overrode his confusion and inner conflict. "Toothless! I can still understand you!"

Toothless tilted his head. "What, really? No human understands our speech. Even you have to guess. Though you are a great guesser."

"Yeah! I got all of that. And you're better at charades than I am at guessing. It's mostly your talent that we communicate as well as we... did, I guess." He smiled. "Something tells me talking is more efficient."

"Yes." Toothless growled at him. "The first thing I want to say is that it was a really stupid idea to go to that island."

"It was." Hiccup crossed his arms. "But come on, how could I have seen _that_ coming?! You can't blame me for wanting to get my leg back." He pointed at Toothless's tail. "I don't see you complaining about that regrowing."

"Because you couldn't hear me before." Toothless flicked his tail. "Believe me, it hurts. I complain plenty."

There was a beat of silence. They were both ignoring... well, everything really. Hiccup broke first, looking out at the pond, in the hopes that no eye contact might make things easier to say.

"Bud, I... remember. Everything." He frowned. "And now I get why you weren't exactly happy to see him back in the caves."

Toothless wasn't having any of that. "No. Forget it, and never do... that... again. It's wrong."

"That's a bit unrealistic!" Hiccup waved his hands. "It's not like it was some dream that fades in a few seconds. I still have to stop myself from calling you Beryl! Right now, when I look at you, both names come to mind!"

"Just don't think-"

"I can't _not_ think! I've been trying!" He sat down, frustrated. "I just lived sixty years in... how long was I out?"

Toothless shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't know you were unconscious. When the blue fire dissipated, you were laying on the ground. It only lasted a few heartbeats. Did you really..?"

"Sixty. Years. Every waking minute of his life." Hiccup thought back. "Gods, Toothless, I can remember things he heard before he had even hatched. I can remember what that felt like! Is that even normal for dragons? Because I sure as Hel can't remember what it was like to be a human infant."

"Well, I can remember that stuff too... not that there was much to experience." Toothless shifted. "Everything? Really everything?"

"Bud, I recall the day you hatched." Hiccup could really remember it as if he had been there. "The surprise. We didn't think you'd come out entirely black. Your mother thought you'd be grey, like her, and I was guessing green. You had the most piercing green eyes though."

Toothless recoiled. "Stop." He whined, falling back until his back paw hit the shallows of the pond. "Hearing you talk like you are him is wrong. My Sire is dead. No crazy lady with unnatural powers can change that, and neither can you."

"Toothless." Hiccup put a hand to his head, trying not to dwell on what he was saying. "I know Ember is dead. I can remember death, just as vividly." He choked. "My death, and Flint's. I wish I could forget."

"You have no right to those memories!" Toothless was growling. At Hiccup. "They aren't yours."

"And I'd give them back if I could!" Hiccup was yelling now, frustrated beyond belief. "But I can't! So stop acting like this is all my choice!" He searched his mind for the best way to say this. "I can't deal with this alone. You protected me from everything on Berk. But now, when I actually need support, you're blaming me for it."

Toothless's growl trailed off, and his eyes expanded. "I..." He took in Hiccup's clear distress. "You're right."

"I know I am." Hiccup looked down, still trying to regain some semblance of normal in his own mind. "I really need-"

Toothless gently pushed him over with a paw, having moved close while Hiccup wasn't paying attention. He caught Hiccup against his side, and in moments the boy was ensconced in a living barricade of black scale. "You are right. It's not fair to blame you. I'm sorry."

Hiccup exhaled. "Thank you. I'm sorry too, for what it's worth. For everything. Getting us into that mess, going to that stupid village in the first place, shooting you down that night. All of it."

"Don't apologize for shooting me down." Toothless huffed, the air ruffling Hiccup's hair. "That was not you. Just a desperate boy who needed to prove himself. You cut me loose and did everything that came after. If I thought you were still the same person who shot me down, I wouldn't stick around."

"And now?" Hiccup choked out a combination laugh and sob. "What about now? I've changed again. Quite permanently, I suspect." Those memories weren't fading. If he had to describe it, they were _settling_. He was finding it more and more difficult to distinguish between original and implanted memory, as the new ones settled into familiarity. This definitely wasn't going away.

"I didn't consider leaving for a second." Toothless growled, the sound reverberating in the small space Hiccup was occupying. "But we do need to set a few rules."

"Such as?" Hiccup had a pretty good idea he knew what Toothless meant.

"That ability... it's bad."

"I don't like it. But is it bad in itself?" Hiccup asked curiously, having considered the question. "I mean, clearly, killing people for personal benefit is wrong. But I didn't exactly try to get this far. And Ember was... already dead."

"There is something morbid about it." Toothless uncurled, looking Hiccup in the eye. "I don't believe you are evil. But I do think using my Sire's body on a whim is disrespectful in the extreme. Please, please don't. It isn't yours."

That was fair. Hiccup knew he wouldn't like it either if the situation was reversed. But something inside of him rebelled at the idea of just willfully ignoring a part of himself, one he was sure deep down wasn't intrinsically evil or wrong.

"Bud, I'm going to be honest." Hiccup tried to show his resolve. "I don't think becoming Ember is wrong or disrespectful if done for the right reasons. But I will not do it if you don't want me to."

"Thank you." Toothless squirmed a bit after a moment, clearly debating something inwardly. "I suppose you can't forget his memories."

"No. Maybe if someone hit me over the head a few dozen times, but that would be just as likely to kill me as to help." Hiccup forced a grin. "They aren't going anywhere."

"I wish that wasn't the case." Toothless shuddered. "You remember everything. Including very personal, private things, I assume."

Hiccup's face turned beet-red as he made the connection Toothless was implying. "Ehh... yeah. That's really, really weird. Thank you so much for bringing it up. I hadn't considered that" he rolled his eyes, "and now I can't _stop_ thinking about it! Please change the subject." He did not want to dwell on that. Though to be honest, it wasn't the memories of the act so much as the fact that he technically was his best friend's own father, in memory if not blood, that disturbed him.

That, in turn, brought him to another line of thinking. "How in Thor's name am I going to explain any of this to Astrid?" Astrid specifically, because, well...

Ember's life had messed that up too. He still kind of liked Astrid, but now he could also remember being the dragon equivalent of happily married to Flint for many years. He could also still feel the heartbreak her death had wrought in those last moments. That wasn't going away. Who knew how it would affect things with Astrid, going forward? Not that she had seemed particularly interested in going forward for her part these last few weeks anyway. Hopefully, she'd stay aloof long enough for him to figure all of that out.

Toothless obliged him in changing the subject, following his comment about Astrid. "You don't. No one should know."

"Why not?" Hiccup spoke lightly, already seeing how the village would react. "I personally don't get enough strange looks on a daily basis. Revealing that an immortal murderer cursed me with her abilities might get me to my daily quota." No, the village definitely couldn't know about any of this.

"That at least is still entirely you." Toothless snorted, pawing at Hiccup. "Sire was never one for sarcasm."

"I know." Hiccup could remember that Ember had been a solemn dragon, save with Flint and his hatchlings. "I believe quiet encouragement was more my- sorry, his- forte." He winced at Toothless's uncomfortable rumble. "It's hard. I am trying."

They lapsed into silence for a long while. Hiccup sat against Toothless's side, trying to bring some modicum of peace to his mind. It was difficult. He stared out at the pond, eyes not really seeing the water. Reliving Ember's memories was an activity he found himself drawn back to, time and time again. They weren't so vivid anymore, now closer to matching his own memories. The important stuff stuck, and if he tried he could recall certain details, but the day-to-day faded into obscurity. It was a small blessing. Being hyper-aware of every moment of sixty years would be even more of a curse.

His mind was drawn back to those last moments, but every time he recalled seeing Flint's lifeless body, he felt like breaking into tears. Needless to say, anything was better than that. He recalled the happier memories instead, as the lesser of two evils. The thousand small moments with Flint, with Spark, Beryl. Those put his mind a bit more at ease, though that little voice in his head that kept reminding him he hadn't actually been there was not silent. It was fading though.

O-O-O-O-O

Hours passed like that. The sun rose to its height, and began the descent back into the West, casting shadows across the cove. Toothless was apparently content to sit there in relative peace. Hiccup had wrestled his thoughts into stillness. With relative peace though Hiccup was able to concentrate on less deep matters.

"Toothless?"

Toothless blinked, coming out of almost a waking sleep. "Yes?" He dreaded the continuation of their emotionally-charged discussion.

"Do you care if I call you Beryl?" Hiccup shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable. "I mean, it is your name. Your real name."

"Well... you can? I don't mind either way."

Hiccup picked up on the sadness in Toothless's voice. "That's a lie."

Toothless snorted. "I really don't mind. I just don't like how you found out. I wish I could have told you myself."

"So do I." Hiccup inwardly sighed in relief. Even that small decision eased the overwhelming confusion he felt, the conflict between old and new memory. It was one less thing he had to think about, to consciously decide. Beryl was his best friend's name.

"It's getting late," Toothless remarked, looking at the setting sun. "Should we spend the night here, or go back to the nest?"

"Nest?" Hiccup shook his head. "Why would we go there? It's empty." Not to mention, it was a few hours away.

"Oh, no. I meant the nest on this island. The No-scaled-not-prey nest."

Hiccup was abruptly reminded that Toothless was technically speaking a different language. "Oh, right. The village." He searched his mind, but there didn't seem to be a word for village in the way dragons spoke. Which made sense. For all intents and purposes, a hypothetical village of dragons would just be a nest. So, of course, they didn't have a separate word for it.

But as for the question at hand... "We can spend the night here. We aren't due back for a few more days. No hurry."

They later spent an hour or so flying, Toothless fishing for food. When they returned, night had fully fallen on the cove. After they had eaten, Toothless settled down to sleep.

Hiccup, mind addled by fatigue, spoke unguardedly, yawning as he did. "Ignoring everything else... this is good, right? Me understanding you."

"If we could ignore everything else, yes. But it is an inseparable part of something much less clear-cut." Toothless growled. "I would be happy to go back to the way things were, before any of this. We didn't need to talk. It's nice, but not necessary."

"I don't know." Hiccup closed his eyes. "Maybe this is for the better. At least now Vithvarandi isn't using Ember's body."

"Yes, that was terrible." Toothless whined softly. He didn't like thinking about those moments. "So terrible..."

Sleep came easily to both of them. But it was a troubled sleep, one that held off on nightmares solely because they were too deeply tired to dream.

O-O-O-O-O

Laughter woke both Hiccup and Toothless in tandem. Their reactions were immensely disturbing to the one who had woken them.

Toothless's reaction was to bolt upright, teeth bared and ears flat against his head, rearing to face the noise in an instant. His body spoke of imminent violence, and his eyes of some unnamed terror. Beyond the obvious tension, there was something akin to fear, lurking behind the facade of aggression.

Hiccup also started awake, his face one of pure stress. While he looked almost the same, there was a depth to his eyes that hadn't been there before. It was almost imperceptible, but it was most definitely there. The depth of experience, of time.

Astrid had stumbled across them in her morning training routine, which now also involved scaling the walls of the cove. The sight of the two asleep on Berk days before their trip was supposed to end amused her. And so she had laughed, fully intent on the sound waking them. This reaction was not at all what she had been expecting.

She took a step back, wishing Stormfly had accompanied her that morning. Toothless had been uptight before, but this was another level, and Thor knew what was going on with Hiccup.

She had seen the look in his eyes, but not identified it. It was simply another unsettling detail. "Hiccup? Mind calling Toothless off?"

O-O-O-O-O

Astrid's voice made Hiccup realized exactly what was going on. But in the haze of having just awoken, he didn't stop to consider what to say, or how he would come across.

"Beryl!" It was a way to gain his attention. He had used it often when Beryl was a hatchling. A sharp snapping warble, underlaid with a growl to convey seriousness.

The issue was, he tried to say it as Ember would. The result was an embarrassingly high-pitched sound that resembled nothing any dragon or human would consider language, cut off in a coughing fit as his throat protested the strange signals his confused brain was sending.

That odd noise did grab the attention of both Beryl and Astrid however, so it did end up working. He gagged a little, forcing himself to stop coughing. Very carefully, he formed his next statement in the language this body could use, also taking that time to reorient himself. He was not Ember, no matter how much his own head thought otherwise. He had no right to speak to his friend with that authority he had tried to summon.

"That... hurt." At least that statement came out right, though his voice was raspy thanks to the trauma he had just put his vocal cords through.

"You're telling me?" Astrid put a hand to her ear. "That _sounded_ like it hurt." She glanced at Toothless, who was staring at Hiccup, concern clear on his face. Reassured that he was no longer a threat, she put her hands on her hips, a stern tone in her voice. "So much for getting him to ease up. He looked ready to kill me."

Hiccup winced. Astrid had no idea what they had gone through. "Maybe don't startle him awake next time then." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it ended up sounding defensive. "My dad does the same if you wake him up like that. The number one rule in my house is 'don't wake Stoick unless you want to practice running for your life'."

"Still. You were supposed to be fixing it, not making it worse."

"Astrid, I know that." Hiccup stood, gesturing to Toothless. "Well, we might as well go back to Berk now."

The shortness of his tone clearly surprised Astrid. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the cove." She left, not looking back to see if they were following.

"No, I woke up in the wrong body," Hiccup muttered that, well aware that only Beryl could hear him. "Trying to talk in your language isn't fun at all. My throat feels like I tore it to shreds."

"So that's what happened." Beryl rumbled uncomfortably, stretching and flapping his wings. "I thought you were choking. Why did you try?"

"I didn't think." Hiccup began putting the saddle and prosthetic on so that they could fly out of the cove. "That was the problem." He didn't tell Beryl about what he had tried to say, or how he had tried to say it. That upon waking, his mind had immediately connected the need with Ember's experience in handling his hatchlings, not with Hiccup's experience in calming his friend.

He didn't tell Beryl that though he still remembered the name 'Toothless' and wasn't uncomfortable using it, it was disturbingly easy to slip into the habit of thinking of his friend as Beryl first. It felt right to do so, as one of the few things both sides of his experience now agreed upon. He as Hiccup had made the decision to use his friend's true name, and he as Ember agreed with that decision. The issue was, that was one discrepancy among many. Most of the rest involved physical issues, such as whether or not he had wings. That feeling of confusion would hopefully fade.

The sight of the village brought mixed feelings to Hiccup, as he and Beryl soared overhead. Home. Kind of. For part of him, anyway. The other part of him didn't really have much of a home. He didn't even know where that island they had raised Beryl and Spark was, or where Thorn and Herb lived.

That hurt more than he had expected. He couldn't go back even if he wanted to, because he didn't know the way.

He tried to concentrate on the here and now. The village. Beryl set down in the plaza, and they were bombarded with greetings.

Hiccup made another discovery. "Gods, I thought it was bad before!" He muttered to Beryl, resisting the urge to cover his ears.

Before, he had heard the greetings of the Vikings, with the ever-present noises made by dragons as an indistinct background noise. Now, he heard the meaning, not the sound. A dozen, a hundred voices he didn't recognize greeted Beryl and even in some cases himself, congratulating them on a safe return, among other things.

It was actually difficult to concentrate on what any given person was saying. The greetings came in on two different levels, in two different languages. They mixed and fouled each other, creating a torrent of pure nonsense Hiccup could not separate into anything coherent.

He had to settle for waving and smiling, all while subtly urging Beryl away from the crowds. Beryl was as eager as he was to get away, and they soon found themselves in an alley, away from the masses.

They only had a few moments before they were found and unable to truly converse. Hiccup shook his head. "That was confusing."

Beryl laughed. "Now you hear everything. It's always like that. Especially for those of us that understand your kind. Our languages are different on many levels. They don't play well with each other."

"Wait, not all dragons understand us humans?" That made sense, in retrospect. Ember didn't understand humans. He definitely hadn't taught Beryl or Spark that either. So Beryl must have learned it after... his death.

He shivered. Really not the best thing to keep remembering.

"No, very few of us do," Beryl growled. "It's an acquired skill, and most don't care enough to bother. I learned from you, those weeks in the cove and from the people around you in the months you were asleep. A few others know, but most don't."

"Great. And it always sounds like that to you?"

"Whenever No-scaled-not-prey and kin talk at the same time, yes. Why do you think I don't enjoy living here that much?"

"I'm sorry, bud." Hiccup shook his head. "At least now I know. I hear it too."

What else would this change? He hadn't expected anything like this. Vithvarandi's actions had ramifications he hadn't foreseen. This was likely not even close to the biggest change he had accidentally wrought.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **A few things of interest:**

 **Languages: They don't play well together, is the short version. Knowing both is fine, hearing both at the same time while being able to understand both is extremely disorienting, and makes it hard to understand any of it. This is a result of the languages of dragons and humans operating on different 'levels' of sound and in the mind. I could BS a real, scientific explanation involving sound waves and amplitude, but it doesn't feel necessary. Just know there is (hypothetically) a scientific explanation.**

 **Toothless or Beryl: I'm aware that some fans dislike any renaming of Toothless, and I personally don't generally do it without a very good reason. Here, it really wasn't avoidable, given Hiccup's state of mind. It also helps that he can** _ **remember**_ **giving Toothless that name, just as he gave him the name Toothless. The prior name has the prior claim. A beryl, by the way, is a type of gem that comes in many different forms and colors, one of which being green.**

 **Lack of a battle for Hiccup's mind: Yeah, no epic showdown. If anyone thinks Hiccup's reaction or opinions on all of this are weird or out of character… make no assumptions. It's hard to be clearer without spoiling something. Just know that his mental state/status is not fixed, rather evolving over time. It has begun in this chapter, but is far from over.**

 **Next chapter up tomorrow!**


	8. Reconsideration

Hiccup really didn't want to go back out into the village proper. Even in the alley, the faint voices he could hear in those two conflicting languages made his head hurt. But he would have to learn to deal with it. Actually... "How do you stand it?" Maybe Beryl knew some trick to it that he could use.

Beryl huffed, staring out at the village. "Well enough. It gets on my nerves sometimes, but as long as it's mostly one or the other, you can ignore the minority language. When everyone is talking at the same time... really, just stay away from that."

So much for that hope. "Going to be hard to do that." Hiccup strode out of the alley, wincing at the increased noise. "Might as well get it over with."

He turned to face the largest crowd. "Yes, we're back. Nice to see everyone. Where's Stoick?" He may as well get some use out of the crowd gawking for no real reason.

"Right here!" Stoick shoved his way through the crowd, followed by Gobber.

Hiccup was amused by hearing Gobber scolding various Vikings for getting in the way. He idly stuck a hand behind him, ascertaining that Beryl was right there. "Good. Just wanted to tell you we're back."

"So?" Stoick was grinning. "How'd your little trip go?"

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of how to answer that. "Well enough, for the most part."

"Yes, and the rest was utterly horrific." Beryl snorted, shaking his head. He didn't really seem to be talking to anyone, not even Hiccup. More voicing his opinions.

Stoick only heard Hiccup. "Good, good. Anything interesting happen?"

"We went hunting a couple of times." Hiccup pulled out the coins he had shoved in one of his pockets, his sleeve catching on the hilt of one of his knives as he did, pulling it partially out of the sheath. "Made a bit of coin off of that."

Stoick nodded absently. "Aye, you would. But I thought I taught you better."

"Sorry?"

Stoick pointed at the knife Hiccup had accidentally pulled out. "Always clean your weapons. Blood isn't good for iron if left there."

Hiccup realized with a sick feeling that the knife he had pulled was his hunting knife. The one that had recently been buried in Vithvarandi's chest. Ember's chest. He hastily pushed it back into the sheath, paling slightly.

"Uh, yeah. Totally forgot about that. There was... a lot going on." He forced a grin. "I'll get right on that."

Beryl, understanding very well exactly whose blood that was, took charge and ushered Hiccup towards his house, by way of nudges and warbles only Hiccup heard as intentionally wordless sounds of encouragement. That was something else that differentiated the two languages, he noticed. Humans didn't have wordless sounds for certain concepts, like encouragement or consolement. Dragons did.

Gobber laughed, watching them. "I thought the 'ole idea was ta get 'im to be less protective."

Hiccup had no answer for that. That had, technically, been the plan. It had failed about as miserably as any plan he had ever made. It might actually have set a new record for how badly a plan could fail, to be honest. No progress on that front whatsoever. They'd be lucky if Beryl didn't get more protective.

They made their way up the stairs of the hill outside the Great Hall, turning off the main path to reach the Chief's hut. Astrid stopped them just outside it.

"We need to see you in the arena tomorrow." Her voice was clipped, and it was clear she still wasn't happy about how Hiccup had spoken in the cove. "It's important. Be there." She stormed off, braid swinging behind her.

"Okay, uh, see you... tomorrow." Hiccup sighed, turning to face the door.

"Great." Well, it wasn't like he had anything else to do. They had left as soon as he had recovered enough, so there really wasn't any precedent for what his place in the village was now. Was he still the blacksmith's apprentice? The other teens had been formally assigned the task of dealing with dragon-related issues by Stoick. Though that had been more of a way to shut up the small group of Vikings who didn't like dragons living among them. Or, at the very least, redirect their consistently petty complaints to Astrid, who was in charge.

Would he be working under her? That was an odd question. He wouldn't mind, but something told him that wasn't going to be the case.

He and Beryl made their way into the house, moving up to his room, the loft of the building. Beryl looked around for a moment. "I hate wood floors."

"Why?" Hiccup drew the two knives he had never cleaned and began wiping them off with a rag and bucket of water they always kept around for cleaning. "I didn't think splinters would bother you."

Beryl jumped, before groaning. "I forgot you can hear me. To answer your question, I like to heat the places I sleep. Keeps my scales warm, and kills any pests. But I can't do that on wood."

Hiccup smirked, trying to keep his mind off of why the water bucket was turning a pale red. "I don't know, not many pests in a burning building. We never got termites, thanks to the raids. Rebuilding from the ashes every so often must have been a pretty good deterrent."

"Termites?" Beryl rumbled, settling down, clearly unhappy with the wooden floor. He glanced over at Hiccup, taking in the bloody knives. "What are termites?"

"Bugs that eat wood." Hiccup had finally gotten the blood off of the smaller knife. He set that one aside.

"What does wood taste like?" Beryl was visibly considering it, eyeing an exposed knob of wood on the posts of Hiccup's bed.

Hiccup could almost feel Beryl deciding whether or not to find out for himself. "Not good, I think. We can't eat wood. If we could, Vikings wouldn't make their houses out of it, and dragons wouldn't bother hunting. Trees don't run." He wanted to laugh at the way Beryl's expression slowly drooped, his partially open mouth closing in disappointment. Apparently Beryl had thought better of it.

"Oh well." Beryl shifted again.

"Bud, if it really bothers you, I think we can get a stone slab up here." Hiccup was understanding far more clearly why Beryl was always uptight in the village. He'd fix the causes that were within his power to fix. Whether or not moving a flat piece of rock big enough for a Night Fury both indoors and up to the loft would be easy. He'd do it anyway. Or, well, he'd get Gobber to help him with it.

"That would be nice."

O-O-O-O-O

Hiccup and Beryl showed up at the arena bright and early the next day. Hiccup hadn't been planning on that, but it turned out that sleeping past dawn was far harder than he had expected.

Beryl wasn't happy with that turn of events either, which was why he was currently staring down, flicking his tail. It was a gesture Hiccup had rarely seen in his human life and had never put a name to until now. Embarrassment.

"Come on. Don't be embarrassed. I won't tell anyone." Hiccup smiled. "Who would I tell, anyway?" That had been possibly an interesting thing to wake up to. Apparently, Beryl was still...

Still. He did know about that, actually. He could remember Beryl doing it as a hatchling. He must have never grown out of it. Anyway...

"I keep forgetting you can hear me!" Beryl growled, angry with himself. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's _fine_. I don't mind at all. Waking up to you singing is much better than waking up to you barking or pulling the blanket off of me. Or peeing in the cave because you can't hold it."

Beryl froze. "I never... please, don't do that!"

"Sorry. It slipped out. Still." Hiccup was once again reminded the bulk of his memory wasn't his own. That last example had been from Beryl's childhood. Before he personally had even been born, in all likelihood, though he didn't know how much time had passed between Ember's death and the present day, so he couldn't be sure.

Either way, Beryl had nothing to be embarrassed about, in his opinion. It had been more of a humming, a wordless string of the emotions conveyed by the sounds that dragons used in place of words sometimes. Quite loud, to one who could understand, but almost inaudible to anyone else. Stirring, too. Like a heroic tale, the way Beryl did it. That had gotten Hiccup fully awake and raring to go. Not being a morning person, that was an impressive feat.

He decided to boost his friend's self-confidence with a bit of the truth. "Really, it was quite good. Is it something you practice, or do you make it up as you go?"

Beryl squirmed, his expression torn between embarrassment and pride. "It's something I practice. Kind of a... history, almost." He looked up, hearing something Hiccup couldn't. "We can talk about it later. They're coming. Remember, the No-scaled-not-prey can know nothing."

"Got it. By the way, I'd like to hear the whole thing later. You stopped as soon as you realized I could hear it." Hiccup smiled kindly, turning to face the arena entrance. They had been standing in the middle of the arena proper, and as the iron mesh above it was still in place for the moment, the larger dragons had to come in through the entrance arch. That hole in the mesh that Beryl had blasted was a stark reminder that the world had changed quite dramatically in the last few months. He and Beryl had blasted the old. The new was coming to replace, or in this case invalidate what remained. That was a large part of what the teens did now, really. Facilitating that exchange.

Though it was clear none of them saw it like that. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were the first ones there, oddly enough, trailed by their Zippleback. They hurried through the entrance, though both human and dragon components of that group drooped at the sight of Hiccup and Beryl.

Hiccup winced as Ruffnut and the Zippleback spoke at the same time. Even with just two voices, it was an audible discord that ran through his head like a vine of thorns, drawing his attention away from both speakers as the discord poked at him. Now that he was looking, he could see Beryl also wincing just slightly. It was becoming clear that knowing both languages was as much a curse as a blessing, whether the knowledge had been obtained by learning or by transplanted memory. It made much more sense now that few dragons wanted to learn.

Ruffnut spoke again, mercifully accompanied by silence from Barf and Belch, the Zippleback. "Are you okay Hiccup? You didn't even hear me."

"Yeah." Tuffnut dropped the satchel he had been carrying. "Usually you get ready to run whenever we mention pranking. To be fair, you are usually the target. This time you didn't even blink!" He turned to Ruffnut. "They're becoming desensitized. Do you know what that means?"

Hiccup spoke. "That you should stop bothering with pranks?"

Ruffnut frowned, face solemn. "Yes, I do. We must improve. Strive for even greater achievements!" She threw a satchel similar to the one Tuffnut had dropped away, hitting the wall of the arena. "Forget fake yak pies to throw at Snotlout! We need _real_ yak pies!"

In the stunned silence that followed that declaration, Barf and Belch tried again. "Beryl." The heads spoke at random, cutting into and out of the words at will, carrying the flow of speech flawlessly between them. "You should never have learned the speech of No-scaled-not-prey. It makes you hard to talk to."

Beryl growled. "It was necessary, and I do not regret it." He cast a glance at Hiccup before continuing. "You chose not to learn. Was it because you did not want the frustration, or because you knew your charges do not say anything worth hearing?"

Hiccup winced, though the Zippleback didn't seem offended. The two heads nodded. "True, on both counts. They are simple, as are we. There is no difficulty between us. And no painful discord from knowing both languages."

"Yeah, same here." Hookfang, Snotlout's Monstrous Nightmare, strutted into the arena, his back slightly aflame, though the flickering fire died out as he entered. "Mine would be more annoying if I knew what he was whining about all the time."

"I believe we have told you." Beryl sighed, his tail swishing in impatience. "Many times. He is not fireproof. That is quite clear, whether or not you understand him."

"He just needs toughening up!" Hookfang rumbled contentedly. "He will get used to it eventually."

Hiccup inferred from Hookfang's dissipating flames that he had recently put that theory into practice. Snotlout would likely be along as soon as he put himself out.

"I wish I knew what those noises meant." Fishlegs and Meatlug had entered the arena. Fishlegs stared curiously at the dragons.

Hiccup responded without thinking, gesturing offhandedly at Hookfang. "Nothing important." He winced as Beryl whacked him with a seemingly-errant tailfin, realizing he had said too much, "or at least I don't think so. Not right now, anyway."

Meatlug grumbled, looking around the room. "He is supposed to be our advocate, Beryl. Why does he say we speak nothing worth hearing?"

Hiccup realized that unlike Barf and Belch or Hookfang, Meatlug clearly did understand both languages, as Beryl did. He'd need to be more careful around her.

Beryl shook his head. "He meant not at the moment. I know for a fact he does not believe that of all dragons. It is the same for me to say the twins are not often worth listening to. I am not condemning the species."

"But we know No-scaled-not-prey are not animals. They do not believe the same of us. Except for yours. He at least understands, I had thought. Even my charge does not truly believe. It is hard to change minds when they cannot hear one try."

"Why does it matter?" Stormfly twirled through the hole in the iron mesh, dropping to the floor with a self-satisfied squawk. She began preening her wings, eyeing Beryl. "My charge is the alpha. She is the one who matters." Another squawk. "What yours think is of no consequence."

"She is only alpha of these few." Meatlug buzzed towards Stormfly, her tiny wings blurring. She dropped in front of the taller and more colorful dragon, frustration clear in the way she moved. "And we must live with all of them, not just your charge. So they all should understand."

Hiccup jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Woah!" He turned, seeing Astrid with a very unimpressed look on her face. "Sorry, I was-"

"Completely zoned out." Astrid lifted a fist threateningly. "Did you hear a word we were saying?"

Hiccup thought back. Once he had started listening to the dragons talk...

He had heard the other conversation, Astrid talking to the rest of them. He just hadn't truly understood. Like with the dragons before, their voices made no sense. Apparently, at best it was one or the other at any given time. That was still better than the discomfort of both canceling each other out. "No, sorry."

"Ugh." She turned, pointing at Tuffnut. "Report. _Again_. Someone wasn't listening."

Tuffnut snapped to attention, overdramatically so. "Yes, sir!" He didn't seem to notice Astrid's scowl. "The Thorston survey counts one-hundred and twenty-eight wings currently within the village. One-hundred-thirty with the return of our wandering adventurers here."

"Wings?" Hiccup was amazed Astrid had gotten the twins to work at all. But work that involved _counting_? Something was very, very wrong here.

"Yeah, I checked." Fishlegs tossed Astrid a large sack, after pulling something out of it. "There are seventy-two left, minus the two I just took out, so seventy. I made sure they didn't 'borrow' any left over."

"We resent that. Those are great!" Ruffnut pointed at the two objects in Fishlegs' hands. "How much for those?"

"These are for Toothless, not you." Fishlegs looked over at Hiccup. "We marked all of the dragons with this paint, a blob on the edges of their wings. It helps the village distinguish between which ones live here and which are just passing through. That way they don't complain about the ones passing through when we can't do anything about them."

Hiccup looked around and noticed that there were indeed splotches of orange paint on the wings of all the dragons present. None of them seemed to really notice it.

"That's demeaning!" Beryl snarled at Fishlegs, backing away.

"Agreed." Meatlug sighed. "But they would not be dissuaded. I was stuck explaining and apologizing to everyone all week, as the only one who knew the reasoning behind it."

Hiccup agreed. It was very similar to the way some Vikings marked their sheep, to prevent mixups. "Fishlegs, that's not a good plan."

"Why not?" Fishlegs looked hurt, the bags of paint dangling from his hand. "I came up with it. It works, everyone is happy with it-"

"Does he look happy?" Hiccup pointed at Beryl, who was still shying away, teeth bared. "I know I wouldn't be if you walked up to me and threw paint on my arms. Especially if I couldn't wipe it off."

"They get used to it." Snotlout smirked at Hiccup. "Too bad you don't have a Monstrous Nightmare. Hookfang doesn't even care."

"That's because he keeps burning it off, Snotlout." Fishlegs raised the bags of paint. "I'll just-"

An angry snarl cut him off.

"Nope, nevermind." Fishlegs took in Astrid's stony expression. "Here Hiccup, maybe he won't disembowel you."

Hiccup didn't even bother protesting as Fishlegs shoved the paint bags into his hands. Fishlegs clearly wasn't the driving force behind this, even if it had been his idea. "Astrid. This is demeaning."

"We need a way to tell them apart. Why should your dragon get out of it?"

Great. She was clearly angry at him for, well, everything recently. Still. "For one thing, he's the only Night Fury around. No one's going to mistake him for another dragon. And besides, he clearly doesn't like the idea."

"Neither did Stormfly. We all dealt with a little opposition, but they calmed down soon enough." Her voice went cold. "I am in charge of all dragon-related affairs, according to the chief. This is what's happening."

Hiccup didn't want to challenge her. That was not going to help anyone. But she was wrong. It was demeaning, and he wouldn't-

"Just do it," Beryl growled. "I don't like it, but she isn't backing down."

Hiccup spoke aloud, raising one of the bags of paint, and setting the other on the ground. "I'm not doing anything to Toothless," he remembered to use the name they knew, "that I won't do to myself." He broke the bag of paint, quickly and thoroughly spreading the orange mixture across his right arm. "Toothless? Do you mind?"

Beryl stared at him for a moment before offering one of his wings. Hiccup spread the other bag of paint in a rough circle on one of the edges.

Hiccup took in the shocked and in one case angered faces around him. "There. We've been marked. Can we move on?"

Tuffnut snickered. "Boy, that trip must have been something else."

"Yeah. Hiccup the rebel." Ruffnut didn't seem too engaged in the normal craziness for once. She almost looked thoughtful, an emotion foreign to either of the twins. Apparently he had gotten through to her, if no one else.

Snotlout burst out laughing, pointing at Hiccup's dripping arm. He didn't seem to have any rude comments to make though, which was a small mercy. Astrid, on the other hand, turned beet red, visibly restraining herself from doing anything other than angrily spinning her ax. "We'll talk about this later."

Not if Hiccup had any say in it. This was almost deja vu. Hiding something, getting Astrid mad, avoiding her rage. It felt like just yesterday he'd been doing the exact same thing, albeit for different reasons.

After a moment, Astrid turned to Snotlout. "Do you have the list?"

"Yeah, my dad helped me with it." Snotlout raised a fist triumphantly, before deflating. "He thinks this was my idea. You'll go along with that, right?"

"Feel free to tell him it was. Everyone else knows the truth though, so I wouldn't count on him believing it for long." Astrid spoke over Snotlout's muttered comments, looking at the parchment he handed her. "There aren't too many names here. You're sure this is all of them?"

"Yeah. Dad knows Ack, and Ack heard Mildew talking about how many Berkians were against 'giving the village to the dragons.' He didn't have any problems getting the info from Ack. No one knows about Spike yet, aside from you guys."

"Who's Spike?"

"Obviously my dad's dragon, duh! He got one after you left." Snotlout spun on the twins. "Not one word out of you."

"Sure. How about several? Or we could just go play with Spike, the pink Terrible Terror." Tuffnut took off, pursued by Snotlout.

Hiccup held in a snort, watching them run in circles around the arena. "So Spitelout changed his mind?"

"Yeah, he was dead set against dragons, but apparently Spike wouldn't leave. The way Snotlout tells it, the Terror begged to stay. I think it probably just didn't feel like leaving such an easy source of food." Fishlegs shrugged. "I haven't bothered telling the Jorgensons that Spike is a girl. They'll figure it out eventually."

"Or not, knowing the Jorgensons." Astrid cracked a thin smile. "This list will help us figure out which complaints are real, and which are just Mildew and company griping and making up stuff."

"How bad is that? I figured they'd settle down once it had been a few months."

"Hiccup, it had already been like four months when you woke up. How much longer did you think it would take?" Astrid shook her head. "No, they're set against them. Mildew knows how to gather crowds. He's gotten more insistent recently. Especially since you left."

"What's his angle?" Hiccup was met with several blank stares. "You know, how he plans on changing public opinion?"

"I don't really know. We try to ignore him. You can always listen to one of his little rants today. He's in the village all the time now." Astrid stuck her ax out, forcing Snotlout to choose between stopping his pursuit of Tuffnut or losing a leg or two in the chase. Snotlout chose the former, in a rare show of self-preservation.

"We're going on patrol of the village. Move it or be stuck cleaning the arena." With that threat, she vaulted onto Stormfly and eyed Hiccup. "Feel free to join us." Her voice was cold.

Stormfly had her own, slightly less subtle take on the situation. "Beryl, are you and your charge going to follow mine? She is their alpha. I guess that makes me ours if you do." Without waiting for an answer she took off, carrying Astrid out of the arena. They were followed by Snotlout and the twins, along with their dragons.

Fishlegs was sitting on top of Meatlug, but she wasn't moving. She was instead eyeing Hiccup. At length, she spoke. "Beryl, I apologize for my earlier words. Your charge does treat you, and by extension us, as equals." She buzzed off, finally heeding Fishlegs' desperate requests to not be left behind.

Hiccup sighed, letting out the building tension. "That was... enlightening. They're always like that?"

"Yes." Beryl huffed, staring into the distance. "Astrid's follower is obnoxious. The twins' partners in crime are surprisingly level-headed, Snotlout's friend is clueless, and Fishlegs's grandmother is wise."

Hiccup's head spun. There had been a lot inferred in those words. First off, Beryl hadn't actually said any names. Astrid, for instance, had actually been 'fiery-female-alpha-material-no-scaled-not-prey', which, once he had recognized it, Hiccup's mind instantly translated to just Astrid. The same for the other teens. On the other hand, Beryl had been very specific in not naming the dragons, instead referring to them by their association with their rider.

He decided to inquire about that. "Bud, why in the world did you call Meatlug 'Fishlegs' grandmother?'"

"It is a habit for me. Their relationship is not one of rider and beast, though Fishlegs may not be aware of it yet. I call her his grandmother because that is how she treats him, and in some ways how he treats her. The same idea applies to all of the others."

So partners in crime for the Zippleback, just friend for Hookfang, and... follower, for Stormfly. Beryl really didn't have a high opinion of her. From what Hiccup had seen, he might be right. Astrid did treat Stormfly as a follower too, now that he thought about it. Not quite an equal. "What did you call yourself?" Specifically, how did he see Hiccup's relationship with him?

Beryl shrugged. "It doesn't mean much. And anyone who knows me calls me Beryl. But new dragons who don't know me personally... they call me your missing piece. And you mine. In reference to our literal missing pieces, I think." He shook his tailfin. "It will not be accurate forever. I think the fact that we use each other's names now is much more significant. Names might be a thing unique to our species. No other dragons I know use them."

Hiccup considered whether or not to point out that Flint hadn't had a name when he first met her. But that thought brought him back to thinking about her. This time, it wasn't sad so much as contemplative. He couldn't help but compare her to Astrid.

The two were... had been... similar, in some ways. Fierce, almost unforgiving in some ways. But Astrid seemed to value power, strength. Flint had not. She had demonstrated that multiple times. Astrid was direct and uncompromising. Flint had mellowed in that respect, especially after Spark had come around.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Astrid now. She clearly wasn't happy with him, but that would pass. Eventually. Faster if he tried to make it up to her, though he really didn't feel like doing that.

That was actually a red flag, right there. Old Hiccup would have been desperate to repair relations with the only person he liked in that way, and who might slightly like him back. Now, with Ember's perspective and life behind him, Hiccup felt no such urgency. In all honesty, the thought of dealing with Astrid in the future just made him tired, in a way that was deeper than physical fatigue. It also made his heart hurt. He couldn't help but compare this to his own father's life. Losing one wife and not taking another.

That was seriously messed up. But he wasn't going to hope that this feeling would fade. Nothing from Ember was fading. It was safe to assume it wouldn't at all if it hadn't started by now. Something Vithvarandi had said also supported that theory. She had spoken of the first form taken being especially important. Possibly because of this, this permanent change in memory and by extension perception? It couldn't be this way with every form. It would have driven Vithvarandi mad by now, taking form after form, all with their lifetimes of experience added to her own in such lifelike quality.

He didn't know enough to be sure of any of that and testing it was entirely out of the question.

O-O-O-O-O

They ended up wandering the village on their own, unaffiliated with Astrid's efforts. He and Beryl had easily agreed on that. Neither of them wanted to encourage Stormfly, and Hiccup wasn't particularly feeling the need to appease Astrid.

They did get a lot of stares. More than usual. Hiccup could feel eyes on him. "Bud, is there something on my back? A Terrible Terror or some such attachment?"

Beryl snorted. "No. They're staring at your arm."

"Oh, right." Hiccup lifted the arm that he had dyed orange. "Worth it."

"It was quite the statement." Beryl warbled appreciatively, weaving between three stumbling Vikings, all of whom were clearly drunk despite it being noon. "I do appreciate it."

"Anything for my... friend." Hiccup winced, hoping Beryl hadn't heard the pause.

"What were you going to say?" Beryl pulled them into a convenient alley so that Hiccup wouldn't be seen just randomly talking to himself.

So much for hoping Beryl hadn't noticed. Maybe he could play it off. "Nothing important. I just tripped over my words."

"Right." Beryl looked at the ground. "I think I might be being a bit... unfair."

"How so?"

"It isn't right to make you hide what happened, from me at least. Those memories are in your head. Whether I like it or not. It's selfish of me to make you censor yourself. Even if hearing stuff like that is a bit disturbing." He crooned apologetically, butting Hiccup's hip with his forehead. "Speak. Please?"

"I will, in the future. Trying to stop myself isn't working anyway. But this really was nothing." Hiccup didn't want to reveal that he'd almost called Beryl his hatchling. Even if he really was Ember, that would be rude now that Beryl was so clearly an adult. He'd need to get both sides of him adjusted to that. It was a relief that he didn't have to worry about upsetting Beryl with his... oddities.

"Okay." Beryl's ears tilted, and he began growling. "I hear shouting."

"Well, the smart thing to do would be to go the other way." Hiccup was smiling.

"But we're not doing that." It wasn't really a question.

"Nope."

They maneuvered their way through the streets of Berk towards the noise. Hiccup turned a corner and beheld exactly what he had expected to find. Mildew, practicing his rabble-rousing skills. He tried not to listen to the old man's ranting at first, before remembering that he had wanted to know. He began paying some attention with reluctance.

"...destroy our houses, burn our crops, corrupt our youth!" Mildew was almost foaming at the mouth.

"Is that all?" Hiccup murmured, annoyed. All of those problems had apparently been mostly fixed thanks to Astrid's efforts, from what he could see. Except for the 'corrupting our children' part, that was new. Who knew what Mildew meant with that one.

Mildew raised his staff, pointing into the crowd. "A perfect example!"

Hiccup looked around in confusion before realizing Mildew was pointing at him. "What? Sorry, I wasn't really listening."

Mildew got down, stepping off of the overturned cart he had been standing on. He advanced through the crowd, who parted before the angry old man with a stick. "You," he sneered, "started all of this corruption!"

"Corruption?" Hiccup smiled, not letting the old man get under his skin. "What corruption? If you're implying nepotism, I've got to point out Toothless doesn't give a rotten fish for who's chief."

"No, not like that! Corruption of the pure Viking way!" Mildew was getting close now.

Hiccup put a hand on Beryl's snout, a physical reminder that getting protective now could be a disaster. Attacking Mildew would mean no end to his capitalizing on that event. "Traditions change, Mildew."

"Aye, good ones broken and cast away by you and your friends!" Mildew sneered, now up in Hiccup's face. "And your father, too." His voice was sharp and venomous now. "He ignored a very important one. The one about setting runts out to sea to die. We all see the consequences of that."

Hiccup was speechless. Normally he might have retorted with sarcasm, or maybe just left.

The side of him that came from Ember knew leaving was a sign of weakness. Of acknowledging that Mildew was right. He wasn't in the mood to make light of what Mildew had just said either.

So, he chose a different path. "I'd think twice about that." His voice was cold. He shifted his stance, giving Mildew a good look at Beryl.

Mildew gasped, shocked by the fact that Hiccup's hand was literally on the dragon's teeth, fingers over his muzzle. Beryl was just barely restraining himself. Hiccup could feel the anger coursing through his friend's body, the tensing of muscles that came and went in waves, down to the muscles in his face.

He spoke louder. "I'd say Toothless has more self-control than I do right now." Hopefully, Beryl got the message. Hiccup removed his hand entirely and drew a knife. "Because you just crossed a line."

He didn't intend to use the knife, or even to threaten Mildew that much. But Ember's experience made him much less inclined to back down. Mildew might physically be his elder, but now Hiccup felt no intimidation whatsoever brought on by the man's weight in years. They were fairly close to equal now, as experience went. Drawing the knife was both a way of forcing Mildew to back down, and of proving a point. Beryl was restraining himself. Hiccup by all appearances was not quite as in control of himself. Let the dragon be the better man, metaphorically speaking.

The crowd murmured, a shocked and confused sound emanating from all around him. Mildew's eyes widened, as he looked from the boy with a cold look in his eyes to the dragon shaking with constrained rage. He visibly quailed, taking a step back. "Oy, are you threatening-"

"No." Hiccup put the knife away, his voice still loud. "I am not the kind of Viking to declare a blood insult for being told my father should have drowned me as a child." The murmuring in the crowd increased in volume, most of them just now realizing what Mildew had said. He met Mildew's eyes. "You like to stir up trouble. Be careful. Eventually, someone will do worse than ignore you."

Hiccup was very aware that Beryl was still on the edge of losing control. He was as well, a very rare occurrence for him. This needed to end before either of them was provoked further.

Help came in the form of Stoick himself, who barged through the crowd. From what Hiccup heard, Stoick had just arrived and was trying to figure out why everyone was standing around instead of working. He hadn't heard Hiccup or Mildew.

Mildew wasn't going to stick around and test that. He slipped into the crowd without another word, disappearing among the much bulkier Vikings, all of whom were now in a hurry to be anywhere else.

Hiccup walked away, heading nowhere in particular. Just away from the crowd. Beryl followed as he had hoped. In minutes they were at the edge of the village, on the border where the forest began.

Beryl had calmed down slightly. That didn't stop him from letting out his rage on a convenient target.

Hiccup stepped back and watched as Beryl tore into a rather large tree, slashing and even biting the trunk in pure fury. His own anger had dissipated much more rapidly, so he was content to watch.

Eventually Beryl calmed down, leaving the tree a mangled and scarred mess, dripping sap, the base of it littered with chunks and fragments of bark. He turned to face Hiccup, his pupils returning to the rounded squares Hiccup knew meant calm.

Hiccup spoke first. "Thank you."

Beryl shook his head. "For _not_ defending you? I don't deserve to be thanked. You should be thanking me for tearing that-"

"No." Hiccup cut Beryl off. "I wish you could, believe me. But even he doesn't deserve to die for being a rude old man. I am thanking you for controlling yourself."

Beryl growled. "I shouldn't have to. He should not treat you like that. Among dragons, such an insult-"

"Is answerable by fighting to the death, the one who was insulted getting the first blow. I am well aware of that." Hiccup could remember watching several such fights as Ember, during the time they had spent in the company of other dragons at that place of nesting. He had thought it stupid then, and he still did now. Insults should not result in death.

"Right. Of course." Beryl sighed, sitting down among the wood splinters after burning the ones under him to ash. "What now?"

Hiccup groaned. "I have no idea. We get used to being in the village, I guess." It was strange, having no real responsibilities. "I guess I go back to working in the forge? Or maybe working with the other teens..." Which would involve working with Astrid. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"Why?" Beryl swished his tail to clear a patch of burned wood, inviting Hiccup to sit beside him. "What holds you here?"

"It's..." He couldn't say home. Not when he also had Ember's memories to tell him he had another home, if he could ever find it. "Well, where my father is, for one thing. I kind of have to become chief when he retires." Or dies. That was more likely, given the Viking lifestyle placed little to no value on a peaceful death of old age.

"Is there anything else?"

"Astrid is here. However that ends up." Only time would tell.

"So your future responsibility, and Astrid." Beryl huffed. "Focus on those, if we must stay here. Astrid first, I'd say, since Stoick seems fine for now."

That was a good way of looking at it. "I'll do that." Something occurred to Hiccup. "Is there really nothing for you here?"

"You." Beryl's voice was sad. "You are all I have left at all, not just here. Everyone else is either dead or gone."

"Gone." Hiccup winced. "What happened to Spark?"

"When I was enslaved by the Queen, he escaped." Beryl bowed his head. "I bought him time to escape. I have not seen him since. He could be anywhere in the world, and I have no way to find him. Hopefully, he is still alive somewhere."

"Do you want to go and... look for him?"

Beryl's answer surprised Hiccup. "No. There's no point. It's been ten years since that day, give or take, and he had always wanted to explore. He is likely in some remote corner of the world, where no one will ever find him. We could waste decades searching, and you do still have ties here. I value family at hand more than the family who never even came back for me." His voice was a bit sad, and a lot bitter.

Hiccup could remember that what Beryl said of Spark was true, to a degree. While he had been cautious, he had also had an exploratory streak. But as for the rest... "Don't say that. He's still your brother."

"He left me there. Ten years, and not a single rescue attempt." Beryl looked away. "Can you blame me for not being happy about that?"

"No. But we will look for him, someday." Hiccup placed a hand on Beryl's head, behind his ears. "And you two can work that out when we do. I'll not have you hating him for leaving you when he might have an explanation. You owe him to at least hear him out."

"Is this Hiccup talking... or Ember's memories?" Beryl's voice was quiet and concerned.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Hiccup smiled. "Both. We agree on that subject. Actually, we had a lot in common."

"I believe that." Beryl stared out into the forest. His ears flicked as he thought. "Fine. Someday. First, we deal with your problems. Once that's solved, we can go looking for him."

"Hey, we'll be done in no time!" Hiccup's heart sank. He knew how that might work out. If they didn't go searching before he ended up becoming chief, they would never be able to go. He'd be stuck in the village, the weight of responsibility holding him there. But he didn't say anything. Because by then, Beryl could go looking on his own. That was how it probably would have to be, as much as he hated the thought of Beryl leaving on a long and dangerous search without him. It might have to be done.

But that was for the future. The past was mostly dealt with. The present was what they needed to focus on.

Was the past truly dealt with? Hiccup shuddered. They had escaped Vithvarandi, and that seemed to be over with. But the results of her actions were even now influencing everything he did. He wouldn't have handled Mildew that way without Ember's experience to back him up.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, having Ember's memories. Any help he could get was welcome.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **The changes just having Ember's memories have caused are becoming more and more evident, I'd hope. Also, Astrid's attitude is indeed not a good one, but to be fair, she is being provoked. We'll see more of her next chapter.**

 **On a side note, a hypothetical question: Would Hiccup ever have invented the fully automatic tailfin if Toothless had never shown a need for it? Not that Hiccup didn't want to make one, but whether or not he'd ever think of it without a reason to truly consider it? Necessity is the mother of invention (or so the saying goes).**


	9. Agitation

The next day, Hiccup went to find Astrid, before everyone gathered in the training arena. He and Beryl searched, eventually locating her.

"How do you want to do this?" Beryl eyed the ax sticking out of a tree across the small clearing from them, the ax Astrid was at the moment removing from the scarred bark. She hadn't noticed either of them yet, not facing the right direction to see them.

"Stay back, and rescue me if she starts cutting off limbs. I'm already down one." Hiccup smirked, walking towards Astrid. "Just stay calm. This is something I have to do." He raised his voice. "Astrid. You wanted to talk later? Now seems like-"

An ax thudded into a tree far, far too close for comfort. "Is that a no?"

Astrid walked over, her stride long. Hiccup was expecting her to hit him, as she so often did.

That was another difference between her and Flint. Flint never took her anger out on anyone around her in such a way.

Instead, she simply stopped in front of him and glared. "Sure. Let's. So, have anything to say for yourself?"

"Uhh... about which part?" He really wasn't sure where she wanted him to start.

"Let's go with the most recent one. That stupid stunt with the paint." Her voice was hot with anger.

That, however, was not something Hiccup was going to apologize for. "What about it? You wanted me to mark Toothless like some farmer's sheep. Excuse me for not liking that any more than he did."

"It isn't that." Astrid abruptly moved aside and pulled the ax out of the tree. "You show up and don't pay attention, and then you defy me. Stoick put me in charge, not you. You had no right-"

"You have no right to treat them like animals." Hiccup crossed his arms, distinctly aware that the orange tint to his right arm was clearly visible, despite him trying to wash it out the night before. He had more success with Toothless's wing, though hopefully, Astrid wouldn't notice that.

"Hiccup." Astrid was staring at him a bit oddly now. "They are animals. Smart ones, but still animals. Even Fishlegs thinks so."

"You really believe that." It wasn't a question. Hiccup shook his head in frustration. This for him had become more than a petty argument about Astrid's authority. "After everything I've shown this village."

"You showed us they weren't inherently evil. We figured the rest out while you were asleep. I've spent more time with Stormfly than you have with Toothless. A lot more." Astrid shrugged. "You aren't the expert anymore. We all know as much as you do."

 _That_ struck a nerve Hiccup hadn't known existed, both in him and in Beryl, who snarled. He had to restrain himself from growling at Astrid. While it might be true from her perspective, he knew for a fact that it wasn't true from his. Even if he didn't have the memories of Ember, he would have argued that point. So he did, his voice rising as he became more and more worked up.

"That's rich, coming from you! Where is Stormfly now? Do you even know? I spend all day, every day with him," he pointed at Toothless, who was glaring daggers at Astrid, "and I definitely know more about him than you do about Stormfly." He was glaring at her now. "You treat her like a... follower. Not an equal."

"Because she follows. Listens to what I tell her." Astrid spoke slowly as if trying to explain to a child. "You don't want to believe that-"

"What? That my only real friend is an animal?" Hiccup forged ahead, not caring if what he said hurt her. "No, I don't. Because that would make everyone else even less. Are you an animal? Because Toothless sure can show a lot more intelligence and empathy than you can. I don't see him treating you as lesser."

Now she punched him, hard. He stumbled back, smiling despite the impact. She had hit one of his knife hilts, one of the ones hidden by his leather armor. That had to hurt.

She glared at him. "You're just unable to accept the fact that we don't need you to help us through all of this. Who figured out how to stop the dragons from stealing fish from storehouses? Not you. You were too busy learning to walk. Who fixed the fact that the dragons were scaring the sheep over the Winter? That wasn't you either. You weren't even conscious. You showed the way, but the rest of us actually went out and did it. Stop acting like you know something we don't!"

Astrid paused before continuing. "Who figured out how to call their dragon from anywhere on Berk? I did, while you were gone. Still think you know your dragon better than I know mine?" She inhaled, before letting out an odd call that sounded almost like a reptilian howl, something Ember's memories identified as a somewhat accurate Nadder call. Specifically, one used by hatchlings when in distress.

He couldn't help but snicker. That was an ironic discovery on Astrid's part.

Astrid glared at him as Stormfly rapidly approached and landed in the clearing, rushing over to Astrid's side. She smiled angrily. "Who's laughing now?"

Hiccup decided this particular bit of knowledge wouldn't be too suspicious. "I am. Maybe I was wrong. You don't treat her as a follower all of the time. That's the call baby Nadders use to get their parents' attention." He let that sink in.

Astrid's smile dropped a little bit. She scowled. "So? It does the job."

"It does the job in worrying her every time you feel like getting her attention. It's like if I figured out a way to imitate a human baby's scream, and went around randomly screaming. Sure, it works, but it really isn't a good way to get attention." Hiccup pointed to Stormfly, who was preening Astrid's hair, or trying to. Astrid was fending her off. "She's worried."

Beryl snorted. He spoke to Stormfly. "So much for her being an alpha."

Stormfly retorted glibly. "She is. And I'm the alpha's protector."

Hiccup wasn't listening to their side conversation. He couldn't afford to ignore Astrid, who was clearly becoming even more frustrated, her hands wringing the hilt of her ax, likely as a substitute for his neck. Ah, violence. Such a perfectly Viking trait.

Astrid at length spoke, her voice full of venom. "I still don't need you. None of us do. You just can't stand going back to the way things were. Being useless." She seemed entirely aware of how much that would hurt.

Hiccup snapped. He wouldn't have expected to hear that from Astrid, of all people. He might have crossed a line earlier, but she had just crossed right back and punched him along the way, metaphorically and literally speaking. He embraced several different memories he had gained from Ember, putting together several different observations. The memories came easily, and in about half a second he had put it together. Hopefully, this wouldn't go as badly as his last attempt at such a thing had.

He howled, somewhat similar to what Astrid had done, but subtly different. It was a poor human imitation, as Astrid's had been, but thanks to remembering exactly what it sounded like, he managed to get it close enough as to be recognizable.

There were so many subtle shades to the language of dragons and so many sounds that in truth didn't really translate to words at all. Such calls fell into the latter category, which explained why they were simple enough for a human to replicate at all. Astrid had been calling for attention as a hatchling presumably in distress. What Hiccup did was a bit different. He called as a warning. Ready for conflict, was one way it could be translated.

Stormfly reacted immediately, spines raising and teeth baring as she stood over Astrid, eyeing the woods around them. Astrid's eyes bulged in shock.

Hiccup walked up to Stormfly, raising a hand to her muzzle. "Thank you. This one was a false alarm." If he concentrated, he could hear Beryl conveying the same message in words Stormfly could understand. "She means to use it but is mixing them up. There's no need to worry when you hear her."

Stormfly huffed, backing away and settling down. Hiccup met Astrid's eyes. "That is the call you should be using. A warning call, a call to battle. There isn't really one for 'I want you to come over here', so that's as close as it gets."

"That sounded exactly like mine!" Astrid had scrambled to her feet. "There's no difference."

"There is. You just don't know what to listen for." Hiccup began to walk away. "I won't challenge your authority, or stop coming to the arena. I care about the dragons too much to not help." Time to drop the other foot. "But I won't follow you either, not while you insist on thinking of them like animals." He left the clearing before she could answer, Beryl trailing behind him.

The second they were out of hearing range, Beryl pounced on him. "What is wrong with you?" He seemed upset. "You just made it a thousand times worse!"

"Ugh... can't explain... if I can't breathe..." Hiccup groaned as Beryl removed a paw from his stomach. "I know, I know." His face was thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't really care."

"You did care!" Beryl was sounded confused, almost saddened. "What changed? I thought you both liked each other."

"I liked her. And maybe at some point she thought she liked me." Hiccup winced as stood. Beryl's pounce, while as gentle as the Fury in question could make it, had knocked him on his back rather hard. The hazards of having a five-ton lizard as a friend. "Clearly, that isn't the case now. She's gone back to treating me like dirt."

That was one side of the problem. He hadn't been able to put a finger on it before. Astrid was acting like she always had. In charge, the best of the group. Whatever fleeting liking for him she harbored had dissipated at some point.

The other side was more difficult to explain, at least to Beryl. For himself, it was fairly simple. He didn't find himself that attracted to Astrid anymore. Her dismissive and at this point blatantly superior attitude helped, but he probably would have felt about the same if she hadn't acted like that. He supposed it could be attributed to Ember's memories screwing with his perception, but that implied it wasn't a good change. He had gained _perspective_ from Ember. Many years of it. He could remember years of living with Flint. She was really a better version of Astrid, from what he knew now. The same level of determination and the same anger, but Flint could control it and didn't look down on anyone, or take her anger out on them. Things Astrid did do. Flint also lacked Astrid's disdain for others. That was something he hadn't really seen in Astrid until recently, the way she instantly assessed the capabilities of everyone around her and dismissed those she didn't deem capable enough to be a threat. People like him, now that she was confident with Stormfly. He and Beryl, in her eyes, were no longer a threat. And so he was nothing to her. Even if he could convince her they were still dangerous, did he really want to live like that?

Besides, it felt wrong to even think about romance when he didn't have full control over himself. When he was in a very real way still mourning his last love. The one who had been killed right in front of him.

Beryl knew none of this, but he could see something of Hiccup's thought process in his eyes. He whined, licking Hiccup in the face. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault." Hiccup might have resented Ember's memories, but they felt like part of him now, so it was hard to do that. Of course, there'd be some downsides, he was lucky it wasn't all bad. The truth wasn't always fun to hear or to realize. At least now he didn't have to desperately try and recapture whatever brief spark had been between them. Astrid seemed content to forget about that and move on. He would too. "I just don't think it's going to work out between me and Astrid."

"Really?" Beryl cast a glance back in the direction of the clearing. "Well, at least I won't have to be around Stormfly."

"Yes, that would be good for both of us." Hiccup would never have guessed that Astrid's dragon was so aggravating. Like a passive version of Snotlout, happy to mindlessly follow Astrid, basking in her charge's reflected glory instead of procuring it herself. He didn't really like being around her either. "But we're still going to be around both of them. They're in charge of dragon stuff, and hopefully, we can make sure they don't mess anything up."

Beryl shook the wing that had previously been marked with paint. "So insulting. You think they'd do other things like that?"

"Bud, they mean well. But if they see you guys as animals... yes." Hiccup thought through how Vikings treated cattle or dogs. Half of what he could think of would be terribly demeaning if applied to dragons, and the other half might start a minor war. Such as selling and trading them at will. The few dragons in the village that understood humans would start a riot if they understood what was going on in that scenario, and they wouldn't be wrong to do so.

"Add that to the list of problems to fix." Beryl huffed, starting off towards the village. Hiccup walked beside him.

"What list?"

Beryl snorted. "Deal with Old-smelly-idiot-dragon-hater, fix how everyone sees us, take over for your father at some point, and find my jerk of a brother. There's enough there for it to count as a list."

"First off, I assume you meant Mildew." Hiccup tried not to laugh at the quite accurate name Beryl had given the old man. "second, don't talk about Spark like that."

"I have every right to. He _left_ me." Beryl almost tripped over a fallen log. He recovered with a snarl.

Hiccup blinked, shocked. Beryl never tripped. It was partly having four legs, and partly just being really coordinated. He looked closer and saw the pain in Beryl's eyes.

"Stop." Hiccup moved forward and stood in front of Beryl. "Now speak. Stop holding this in. It's clearly hurting you."

Beryl shook his head and growled, motioning for Hiccup to move aside. "There's nothing to talk about."

"No." Hiccup stood firm. "We aren't moving from this spot until you tell me what else is bothering you."

"There is nothing else!" Beryl moved to a nearby tree and began clawing at it as he ranted. "He's my older brother, and we always looked out for each other! He left me there after I told him to fly away! I didn't think he'd just leave for good! I spent so very long waiting for him to come back, to challenge the Queen. I even told other dragons he was out there, somewhere. After a few years, they stopped listening. A few more, and I stopped hoping." His voice was sad. "I don't want to know why he never came for me. I don't want to go find him if he's still alive. It hurts to think about, finding him just living somewhere, having moved on."

Hiccup winced. "That doesn't sound like Spark to me." It really didn't fit what he knew of the other Fury. What Ember knew.

"It wouldn't. He changed after we saw... you know." Beryl looked decidedly uncomfortable, now just dragging a claw along the ground, not meeting Hiccup's eyes. "He didn't believe they were dead. Wouldn't. I had to knock him out to keep him from going back and looking for them, even after we saw them torn apart ourselves. He still didn't believe me afterward. I had to go with him as he searched... for our Sire and Dam. Convinced they had somehow survived and gone somewhere else. That's how we got so close to the Queen's dominion. I couldn't leave him to search for what didn't exist. He's probably still looking." Beryl sniffed, a sound Hiccup had never heard at quite that pitch in this life. "Apparently, looking for the dead was more important than me."

Hiccup placed a hand on Toothless's back, idly scratching under the saddle. "We don't have to search. But we don't know for sure he abandoned you. Something might have happened to stop him from coming back." What that might be, Hiccup had no idea. "Don't you want to know-"

Beryl roared, a sound of distress and frustration. The trees shook, and a flock of birds startled in the distance, their squawking audible in the otherwise complete silence following the roar. He groaned, shaking his head. "I do. But I don't, at the same time. I can't face it if he just chose to leave me. I'd rather not know."

"Then let's make a deal." This was the best solution Hiccup could think of. "When we find him, don't talk to him. Let me first. I can find out, and if he just left you there of his own free will, we'll go. You won't have to face him." But if he didn't, if there was some good excuse...

Hiccup was proposing this for two reasons. The first was that he wanted Beryl to be at peace. This was a part of that. The second was slightly more selfish. Both parts of him wanted, no, _needed_ to see Spark. To figure out what was wrong with him, to just see him in general. How that interaction would go would heavily depend on Spark. But Hiccup definitely needed to play that out, if they ever found him. Though showing up as Ember would be very complicated, even if Beryl agreed that he could resume Ember's form for that occasion at all. He'd figure that part out if the time ever came.

Beryl had collapsed to the ground, spent and too distressed to remain standing. He huffed, eyes closed. "I still don't want to. But I might be able to bear that." His voice hardened. "And if he did just leave me, let him know I found a better brother. You."

Hiccup was still beside Beryl, offering what support he could. "I'm touched. But calling me your brother to spite him? You aren't a spiteful person."

"Let me have that, this once." Beryl's voice was soft. "In that case, I'll make an exception."

"If you still feel that way then..." Hiccup trailed off, considering it. "I can do that."

O-O-O-O-O

After their little argument, neither Hiccup nor Beryl felt like going anywhere. But they hauled themselves up and made it to the arena on time anyway. Beryl had insisted, though Hiccup was pretty sure that was because he needed a distraction. That was fine with him. He needed one too. Refocusing on their most current goal was a good one.

Astrid seemed set on ignoring them today. Hiccup stayed in the background as Astrid and the other teens continued their various dragon-related efforts, mostly things like the logistics of keeping both sides of a dragon-human village happy.

Astrid was doing a good job... if one saw dragons as animals, as she so clearly did. There was no mention of asking the dragons about anything, and only Fishlegs seemed to consider the reactions to some of the long-term plans Astrid put forth, though in the manner of one concerned for their own personal safety rather than the feelings of those being offended.

Hiccup, after about ten minutes of that, switched his attention over to the dragon half of the conversation. He was not at all surprised to hear Meatlug leading that side of the discussion. Stormfly refused to participate, but Hookfang, Barf and Belch, and Beryl himself were all involved.

It was ironic to Hiccup that the draconic discussion went so much easier than the human side. Astrid considered animals the ones who could cooperate and civilly discuss things without conflict, something Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut seemed incapable of. Barf and Belch were quiet but serious when discussing matters of importance, and Hookfang seemed almost awed by Meatlug's presence, so he didn't act arrogant at all. Meatlug herself was calm and not really in control so much as leading the discussion, often deferring to Beryl.

Hiccup found himself listening intently when the conversation turned towards the dragons' long-term plans for Berk.

Meatlug summed it up fairly well. "We want to live alongside them. It is better for both species."

Hookfang softly snorted, speaking in a subdued tone. "Alongside is key. Not under. I am teaching my charge that, slowly but surely. He has stopped trying to enforce commands physically."

Barf and Belch let out a small puff of gas in laughter. "How long did that take?"

"Three weeks." Hookfang bowed his head. "Three weeks of me consistently kicking him back every time. He changed colors in that time. I have never seen a blue and black No-scaled-not-prey before. But it had to be done."

Meatlug nodded. "That is good, though not the best method. You are the only one who had to deal with that particular issue. Most of our charges are not so presumptuous." She rumbled sadly. "Mine is ignorant though, despite his love of knowledge. He is blind to everything I can think of to show him the truth."

Barf and Belch knocked their heads together, a gesture Hiccup could only interpret as frustration. "We can do nothing to help. Our charges do not care whether we are intelligent or not. They are not, so it does not matter to them. In some ways that is good, but that they do not care is worrying long-term."

The mood in the arena, among the dragons, had soured, falling almost into depression. Meatlug perked up. "Beryl? Have you made any additional progress with your Missing-piece? You have succeeded so well where the rest of us struggle."

Beryl cast a glance at Hiccup before answering, speaking carefully. "There is no further progress to be made. He knows all there is to know."

Hookfang looked up, incredulous. "All? He still calls you by a name of his own picking, despite you, unlike the rest of us, already having a name. He does not know all."

Beryl squirmed, seemingly indecisive. "I can not explain how... but he now does that for the benefit of the other No-scaled-not-prey. In private, he calls me..." Beryl nodded at Hiccup, his face hopeful.

Hiccup had been assuming that they were hiding everything from everyone, but he supposed showing a little to the dragons couldn't really hurt. They didn't have to know how he could do it. He spoke quietly, drawing no human attention to himself. "Beryl."

Dragon attention, on the other hand, was pulled to him. Every dragon in the arena, including Stormfly, jerked around to stare at him in utter shock.

Hiccup flinched as the other teens noticed the complete focus of attention on him. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea.

"Woah, Hiccup!" Ruffnut pointed at Barf and Belch. "They're _both_ looking at you!" Her voice shook. Tuffnut seemed equally shocked.

"So?" Hiccup shrugged.

"No, you don't understand." Tuffnut eyed Hiccup doubtfully. "That never happens. Getting the attention of one head is hard enough. The other always makes sure nothing is going on around it. Like a sentry. We've never seen this happen."

Hiccup did know that, in retrospect. "Well, I-"

"Okay, Zipplebacks are weird." Snotlout shrugged. "Like rider, like dragon. What I want to know is, what did you just do? Hookfang never pays attention to me. I could really use whatever you did."

Hiccup's mind flashed back to what Hookfang had said. He replied without thought. "No, you need to pay attention to him. It took him three weeks to teach you one simple thing."

Snotlout's face flushed, and he took a step back. "How do you know about that? You were unconscious at the time!"

Astrid cut in, her voice cold. "It doesn't matter. If you're done interrupting us, Hiccup?"

"For now." Hiccup glanced at the dragons, all of whom were still looking at him. "I can't guarantee that though."

The teens somewhat reluctantly returned to their discussion. Fishlegs glanced over at Hiccup several times, his eyes glowing with curiosity.

Hiccup muttered, turning to face Toothless. "That was a mistake. They won't forget this."

"It was. I should have broken the news at a better time." Beryl glanced over at the other dragons. "We wish this kept discreet. If you wouldn't mind..."

Meatlug snapped back to attention, her eyes refocusing on Beryl. "Why? And what, exactly, are we keeping discrete for you?" Suspicion colored her tone. "You are very good at conveying meaning with gestures. Is that how you told him?" She continued without letting Beryl answer. "I don't think so, because he knew exactly what to say, and when. Have you taught him our language?"

Beryl did his best to act nonchalant. "We had weeks to work on our communication, free of distraction. But there is something about him. I do not think anyone else could learn." That was the truth.

Hookfang nudged Hiccup with his maw, having inched close enough to do so earlier. "You hear me?"

Hiccup whispered his answer, scratching Hookfang's nose before gently pushing his head away. "Yes. Discrete, remember?"

Barf and Belch pulled Hookfang away by his necks, taking the chance to eye Hiccup. He said nothing.

Meatlug made eye contact with Hiccup. "We will speak privately later. This is not a good place. My charge is watching. For now, I will respect your wishes, so we cannot communicate openly here." She addressed Beryl. "Care to explain in his stead?"

"There isn't much to explain." Beryl shifted, curling his tail around Hiccup. "One day something just clicked for him. It was not like my learning their language. He knows all, though I am unsure if he can speak it."

Beryl's tone shifted very subtly, and Hiccup realized that Beryl was preparing to lie with his next words. It was so subtle, almost entirely unnoticeable, but he knew Beryl. He had heard that little tell develop as Beryl grew and told harmless lies, in play mostly.

Beryl continued, outwardly just as he had been, no real change audible to anyone else. "I think he picked it up from spending so much time with me, and from something about him. None can argue that he is the closest one of the No-scaled-not-prey can get to being one of us. Perhaps fate simply decided it was unfair that he could not hear us. We do not know the trigger, but as he went from nothing to everything, there must be something more than simple experience."

It was a good explanation, a plausible one that couldn't be contested. Hiccup was glad Beryl had been able to handle the pressure.

Meatlug seemed mostly convinced, though there was a slight edge to her voice. "That does seem like the work of fate itself. It is too bad we cannot extend it to all those here. That would make things so much easier. I believe in time, my charge may be as close to me as yours is to you. It is possible that he may obtain the same gift if it is triggered by that."

"It is near impossible for anyone to do what he has done." Beryl shook his head. "Do not get your hopes up." He seemed to be slightly regretting giving Meatlug false hope.

Stormfly butted into the conversation both literally and figuratively, shoving Meatlug aside as she went to stand in front of Beryl and by extension Hiccup. "Yours is still not as good as mine." Her voice was much less confident than usual. "Mine is in charge."

That was met with a snort. "What good is leadership compared to true understanding?" Beryl cast a glance over at Astrid, who was separating the twins in exasperation. "Feel free to believe that. I personally do not value leadership at all. It is nothing but difficulty and responsibility taken on to allow others happiness and freedom. I'd rather make my own decisions, or consult those close to me. I can do that now. Can you?"

Stormfly stared at him angrily for a second, before visibly settling herself. "You were content to wait for another to save you once. What happened to making your own decisions then?" Her tone was too sly, too innocent. She knew exactly how much that must hurt, reminding Beryl of Spark's failure.

Hiccup intervened, speaking quietly so as to not be overheard by the teens. "I liked you better when I couldn't hear you." He got Beryl's attention and met his eyes. "Ignore her."

Beryl grunted, expression sad. He didn't say anything, simply walking away from Stormfly, tail dragging along the ground.

"Bud?"

"She's right." He kept walking, out towards the arena door. "I shouldn't have waited. Not like it would have made a difference though. We were stuck either way."

Hiccup followed Beryl out, ignoring everyone else. "Where are we going?"

They crossed the wooden bridge separating the outcropping the arena was built into from the rest of the village. Beryl's mood lifted a little as they left the arena behind. "Anywhere but where she is."

They wandered the town. Beryl was leading the way this time, and Hiccup was content to follow. There wasn't anything more he could say.

As they went, he watched the village carefully. The villagers were going about their lives, the dragons in their midst. All seemed well on the surface.

Underneath the surface, however, was a just faintly visible tension. The villagers were not aware of it, the dragons were similarly oblivious for the most part. Hiccup could only see it because he was looking. The many small things that taken on their own would have been meaningless.

The Viking tossing fish out to Terrors, but going on his way after a while, leaving Terrors hungry. They flew off, slightly disgruntled. The Viking had grown bored of the activity, so he had left. No consideration of how the ones he was feeding might react, or that not all of them had even gotten food.

The dragons loitering outside a butcher's workspace, before being shooed away by a large woman with a pan and a no-nonsense attitude. It did not escape Hiccup's notice that several village dogs had been treated in the same way. The dragons took no notice of that fact.

The older Vikings, trying to coerce a dragon into flying them places, speaking slowly and waving fish in the air. They got no takers, save for those Terrors from before, who decided the fish being waved around was a good substitute for the food they had missed out on.

None of it was truly mean-spirited or done condescendingly on purpose. It all made total sense given what the Vikings believed. But to Hiccup, every tiny injustice spoke of a larger inequality, one of man and beast, not people interacting with people.

Beryl saw it too. He began pointing things out, quietly. Hiccup couldn't respond, but Beryl knew that. He was simply speaking his observations.

By the end of the hour, Hiccup had seen enough. He and Beryl stopped in the middle of the plaza, looking out into the village. "This isn't the best."

"An understatement." Beryl flicked an ear. "Why does everyone want to stay here? I was not around to hear that decision being made."

"I was told you didn't leave my side for practically the entire time, so that makes sense." Hiccup smiled. "Next time, at least try to keep yourself healthy. I thought you were looking a little out of shape when I woke up."

"There won't be a next time," Beryl growled. "You have too few limbs as it is. Do not lose another."

"We agree on that." Hiccup thought back. "To change the subject, you know what the village is missing today?"

"A large floating sign that says 'dragons are people'?"

"Sarcasm is my department. But no. It's missing a crotchety old man with regrettably good speaking skills riling up the village. Any day is improved by an absence of Mildew."

They both laughed at that.

O-O-O-O-O

A few days later, no one was laughing. Mildew's more ardent supporters had declared him missing, even going so far as to accuse dragons of eating him, and other such atrocities. Stoick had finally had to gather everyone into village plaza to get the facts straight.

"Settle down!" Stoick had climbed on top of a bench, brought out from the Great Hall. "We are here to find out what happened to Mildew!"

At that, the crowd was suddenly a lot less interested. Someone yelled out, safe in the anonymity of the group. "Who cares?"

"He's one of us!" Stoick crossed his arms. "When was he last seen?"

Aldric, one of Mildew's biggest supporters, stepped out of the crowd. "Not for four days."

"Oy, I saw 'im yesterday." Someone else spoke.

Aldric seemed happy to hear that. "Really? Where?"

"He was just wandering the village."

Stoick raised his hands, quieting everyone. "Was that the last time anyone saw him?" There was no response. "Okay, so he hasn't been seen since yesterday. We'll wait a few days. He's always kept to himself."

Several of Mildew's other supporters protested that. Stoick turned away. "Feel free to look for him if you want. He may be truly missing."

Hiccup was close enough to hear Stoick's last, muttered words. "Or just trying to get more attention. That'd be my guess."

He personally suspected something different. His thoughts were interrupted by a punch on the shoulder. A very hard one.

Beryl reared, leaping from his place partially hidden in a convenient alley to avoid the crowd. He landed by Hiccup, snarling at...

"Astrid." Hiccup sat up, a hand to his shoulder. That had been much harder than the punches he was used to. She was still very mad at him. "What have I done recently to deserve that?"

Astrid looked like she would rather be anywhere else. "I have been ordered", she spat that word at him, "to go search Mildew's hut by the chief. And I have also been ordered to take you with me."

"When?"

"Just now, of course." She turned, stalking away towards Stormfly, who was on the edge of the crowd. "Let's get this over with."

Well, she had come from the direction of Stoick. Hiccup sighed, standing up. Stoick probably thought he was doing Hiccup a favor.

O-O-O-O-O

They landed in front of Mildew's hut. It was an old, run-down place, similar to the huts in the village except for upkeep and location. Why the village had built Mildew's hut on the side of the mountain, a good hour's walk from town, no one would say. Hiccup personally thought it was a rare example of Viking foresight and planning. He had never been inside before. Never wanted to either.

Stormfly loitered outside the hut, entirely content to wait. Beryl, however, was right next to Hiccup in front of the door.

Much to Astrid's annoyance. "Hiccup, get your dragon out of the way. I can't even get to the door." She visibly prepared to shove Toothless, before thinking better of even trying.

Beryl's head whipped around, and he met Astrid's eyes. He then stepped closer to the door, glaring at her the entire time.

Only Hiccup heard him taunt her. "Make me. Just push me aside like you would an animal. If you can."

Hiccup kept a straight face with ease. Beryl's tone had been neutral, the statement not at all intended as a joke. It was a challenge. "Ask him yourself. I don't control him."

"Clearly," Astrid griped, staring at Toothless. "but we don't have time for this."

"We have all the time in the world." Beryl lifted his lips in a twisted mockery of a smile. "Unless you'd like to ask nicely?"

"We have all the time in the world." Hiccup parroted Beryl, glad he was standing safely away from Astrid. "Maybe ask him as I suggested?"

The standoff continued for a good thirty seconds, Astrid glaring at Beryl, Beryl staring impassively at Astrid, and Hiccup waiting behind Beryl. Waiting for Astrid to crack. He knew Beryl would wait hours simply to drive the point home if he had to.

"Fine!" Astrid threw her hands up. "Hiccup, I'll get you for this."

"What?" Hiccup pointed at himself. "If it were up to me, we'd already be done here! I don't like Mildew's front porch any more than you do."

"Toothless", Astrid, gritted out, "move."

Nothing. Beryl perked his ears, but otherwise stayed exactly where he was. He shook his head deliberately.

Hiccup imagined that he could see steam coming out of Astrid's ears. "Bud, if you're waiting for her to ask nicely, this is going to be a long day."

Beryl nodded.

"Toothless, please move before I lose my temper and-" Astrid hefted her ax menacingly.

A snort of disdain was the only response she got, aside from Toothless taking a leisurely step to the side, allowing her past.

She stormed past, not even stopping at the door, slamming into it with her shoulder. Old and slightly moldy wood gave way with a wet crack, the door swinging open.

"I hadn't tried the door yet. It might not have been bolted." Hiccup stared into the dark hut.

"It was either the door or your dragon," Astrid called out from the inside of the hut.

"The door doesn't fight back." Beryl snorted, trying to disperse the dust from the forced entry.

They made their way into the hut, which Astrid had lit by way of relighting the old torches scattered around.

The light revealed an interior that perfectly matched Mildew. Old, moldy, and generally disturbing. It was mostly bare of possessions, save for some very odd items in a corner.

Astrid lifted a pair of chillingly familiar boots. "Zippleback feet, hollowed out and turned into shoes, claws and all." She tossed them to the side in disgust, holding up the next item. "Nightmare claws tied to a stick." It went on the pile.

Beryl was staring at the four painted shields on the wall. "Those are very ugly."

"True." Hiccup walked from shield to shield. The first three depicted three increasingly horrid-looking women, each larger and uglier than the last. The fourth shield depicted a sheep. Mildew's pet sheep, Fungus.

Who, Hiccup saw, wasn't around either. That supported the theory that Mildew had gone somewhere. He never left Fungus behind, even on his trips to the village. The hut was bare besides those few things and an untidy heap of personal possessions in the corner. That was it, the fire dead in the hearth and dust settling everywhere, mold growing in the darker corners.

Hiccup noticed something on the ground near the ashes of the fire. Something wasn't right there. He moved closer.

The ash was different here. Darker, and quite a bit of it, as if the logs had spilled out. Quite a bonfire with this much ash though. So... much... ash...

 _An immensely fine black powder, reminiscent of ash but too dark to be just normal ash._

 _Flint's body was already gone. It must have been pulled away by the water somehow._

 _The massive Night Fury broke down in front of his eyes, crumbling into an immensely fine black powder..._

Hiccup jerked back, stumbling over his prosthetic and hitting his side against the wall as he fell. The ash. That fine black ash, too black to be normal. He knew what that was. What it meant.

Beryl started towards him, the beginning of a question on his tongue.

Hiccup cut him off, his voice low so that Astrid, on the other side of the hut and as of now unaware of anything unusual wouldn't hear. "Vithvarandi."

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Well, there goes any sense of safety either Hiccup or Beryl felt. Things are ramping back up again…**

 **Also, for those of you who wanted an explanation for Astrid's coldness and anger towards Hiccup, or to see Astrid's side of things, it is coming, just not quite yet. The same goes for Vithvarandi, whose actions are often quite odd and seemingly illogical. All will make at least some sense in time.**


	10. Fault

Hiccup and Beryl somehow managed to get out of Mildew's hut and away from Astrid without raising her suspicions even more. They spent the rest of the week in a heightened state of paranoia. Beryl let absolutely no one within ten feet of Hiccup, in the rare times they were actually in the village. Hiccup had no objections. That ash told him all too much about what had happened to Mildew. But no one had seen Mildew since. Vithvarandi walked among the village, unnoticed and completely hidden. She could be anywhere, _anyone._ It was not true paranoia if someone really was out to get him.

No one knew but he and Beryl. Vithvarandi was a secret inextricably tied to Hiccup's own, one he and Beryl agreed was too dangerous to reveal. The village was one of superstitious Vikings, Vikings who had been known to ship people off the island for as little as getting struck by lightning in certain circumstances. That had happened to a known swindler, but it had happened. This ability Hiccup had unwillingly been stuck with was far, far more damning in the eyes of any Viking. He and Beryl weren't comfortable with it. How could they expect others to be?

Hiccup sighed, walking through the woods on the far side of the island. He still felt the need to run, to hide. That had hit him the second he knew what had happened, and the implications, in Mildew's hut that day. The need to fight also existed though, and it was growing as they hid.

He turned to Beryl, who was scanning the tree-cover carefully, fully alert, and very tired. Beryl wasn't sleeping well.

Neither was he. Nightmares had been constant, ever since the discovery. Blends of the Red Death, the events on that dark island, and worst of all, reliving Flint's death. Remembering his own death was preferable to that last one. Needless to say, neither of them was at the top of their game. He sighed in frustration.

Beryl turned to him. "You have something on your mind."

"Yeah, I do. This isn't working." Hiccup gestured to the woods. "She must know we're still around. We have to show up in the village every once in a while so no one comes looking for us. Even this is stretching it." Stoick had begun asking questions.

"So? Now what?" Beryl stifled a yawn.

"We go back to the village." Hiccup's face hardened. "We find her, and drive her out. Somehow." Running and hiding were pointless. Vithvarandi knew where they had to be.

"We fight," Beryl growled, facing where the village would be, a good two hour's walk from where they were at the moment. A walk, because flying was too open, too visible from a distance. "But she can... be... anyone."

"We'll think of something." Hiccup looked around, noting that they were in a fairly sheltered spot. "But first, we need to be ready. How much sleep have you had recently?"

"Enough."

"Don't lie." Hiccup frowned at him. "I can tell."

"Fine. None, save for a few hours the night before last." Beryl flinched at Hiccup's shocked expression. "I couldn't, not knowing she could be anywhere!"

"You're sleeping right now, right here." Hiccup pointed at a particularly shaded hollow in the base of a small hill. "Otherwise you'll collapse."

Beryl rumbled, moving over to the spot Hiccup had indicated. "What happened to you not telling me what to do, like you told Astrid?"

Hiccup flinched. "Sorry. It's just..." Ember's memories. Parenting instinct, maybe. He had that now, thanks to Ember. But he really didn't have any right to act on it.

"I know." Beryl didn't sound that upset. "You can't help it. I don't know if I can sleep though." He curled up in the hollow, eyes still open despite the apparent exhaustion of his body.

"I'm awake, and I plan on staying awake." Hiccup looked up, trying to judge the time. It was somewhere near midday. "Sleep as long as you need. When you're good, it'll be my turn. Once we're both rested, we'll go back. We'll flush Vithvarandi out somehow." He sat beside Beryl's head, making a point of watching the entire forest around them. "Rest."

Beryl mumbled something incoherent, his eyes slowly sliding shut. Shortly after, Hiccup could hear him snoring.

Hiccup didn't relax his guard in the slightest. Danger could literally come from anywhere. The tension felt like a spring in his chest, being wound tighter and tighter with every passing hour. The faint noises of harmless wildlife in the distance, birds chirping and fluttering around, did absolutely nothing to calm him.

However, logic said they'd probably be fine. Actually, logically... Vithvarandi wasn't there to kill them.

Hiccup shuddered. No, she probably wasn't. Her final words were far more relevant now. She'd visibly considered his cynical suggestion to find someone who wanted the deal she offered. But she had hinted at the possibility of failure.

She must have failed. Which made him her only option. No, she didn't want to kill him. At the moment, anyway. It was hard to guess the moves of a person who seemed quite unstable.

He was far less certain of his own motivation. While he as Hiccup had never fought personally with the intent of killing, this might be the best time to make an exception. With Vithvarandi, it wouldn't really be an exception anyway.

The other, darker and less logical reason, was that he wanted her dead. That came mostly from Ember. Remembering her killing him, killing Flint... He wasn't needlessly violent on either side of his memories. But to avenge Flint? To protect the ones close to him?

His grip tightened, and he realized he was holding a knife. Drawn from one of his many sheaths, it was one made for throwing. He considered it.

If the chance came...

The knife sunk into a nearby tree, a few feet below a knot at about eye level. He drew another, holding it ready.

If the chance came, he wasn't going to hesitate.

This time he aimed at the knot itself. The knife sunk directly into the center. Something occurred to him.

Four more knives sank into increasingly difficult targets, hitting perfectly every time. He grinned, a dark and feral expression that was very likely out of place on his own face, if anyone was around to see it.

Night Furies never missed.

O-O-O-O-O

"You let me sleep too long." Beryl looked around, taking in the nearly dark forest around them.

"Don't deny you needed it." Hiccup sat down, leaning into the same hollow Beryl had occupied. "My turn. If I can get any sleep."

Hiccup's recurring nightmares were common knowledge among the two of them, though Hiccup had kept certain parts to himself. Hopefully, tonight he could actually get some sleep.

He drifted off, uneasy.

O-O-O-O-O

Restful sleep, it appeared, was not an option. Hiccup recognized the nightmare for what it was with the small part of his mind that was aware this was a dream. It started the same way it always did. With a strange mix of past memories, vivid and fading alike. He could see himself sitting alongside Flint. His human self, oddly enough. They were both watching a hatchling Spark and fully grown Beryl play. The scene was taking place at the nest, where the Queen had been fought. There were no other dragons in sight.

He himself was a bodyless spectator, forced to observe from an omniscient viewpoint, helpless to even try and intervene.

The oddly peaceful sight on the shores of the nest soon collapsed. The Red Death emerged from the volcano, threatening to destroy all before her. He himself fell first, burned to a crisp before any of the others could act. It said a lot about how messed up his dreams were that watching himself die was the least horrifying part.

Flint took off, unharmed by the inferno around her. She tried to gather Beryl and Spark to her, tried to flee. Spark didn't listen, turning away and flying off into the distance.

The Red Death became engulfed in black flame, which dissipated to reveal Ember's body, a representation of Vithvarandi.

This was the part Hiccup found most disturbing. But he couldn't wake himself up in time to avoid a scene that haunted his waking memories despite knowing it was a dream.

Ember's form attacked and mauled Flint, fighting with feral brutality. She fell, collapsing into that black ash after a long and torturous demise, unable to even scratch Ember. Beryl attacked in rage, but Ember simply snarled and changed forms, Vithvarandi now taking on a generic Viking body. One with a bola, which she slung with unerring accuracy, binding Beryl and leaving him helpless on the dark rocks, already stained with blood.

Hiccup was incapable of anything but watching as Vithvarandi slowly cut off Beryl's tailfins, which in this dream had both been present. The tattered scraps of membrane and intricate bone were discarded, and at the end of it Vithvarandi cut out his heart. Just as he had once said he would do, so long ago. Even the knife was the same, the one he had left to rust in the cove.

To Hiccup, forced to watch, it felt like she had cut his own heart out along with Beryl's. Despite knowing it was a dream, he couldn't help the despair he felt.

This was generally where he'd wake up, screaming and sweating. The dream never let go until it was over. But this had always been the end. What more could possibly be shown that was worse than what had preceded it?

Vithvarandi turned towards the sky, searching for something. Spark, maybe? Out of the entire group, only he had escaped, to places unknown.

Then she locked eyes with him, somehow seeing him despite his omniscient presence. Her voice was surprisingly soft. "This is your fault. All of it."

O-O-O-O-O

Hiccup jerked upright, silently this time. That dream had always felt so real. It was no vision though. He recognized the twisting of what he knew, what he had seen. The dream reflected reality in a way, or what could have happened. His human self, dead by the fire of the Red Death. Beryl, dead by a human's hand, killed while helpless. Spark, gone, fate unknown.

Flint. Killed by Vithvarandi. He shuddered, vaguely noticing that Beryl was frantically nudging him, trying to get his attention, trying to comfort him.

He'd respond in a moment, try to forget. But right now, his mind was on Vithvarandi's new, final words. All of that death, she had said, was his fault. It was his mind painting his worst fears. That didn't mean there wasn't some truth to her words, if not about that situation specifically.

He allowed Beryl to distract him, to comfort him. Sleep was still needed. No matter how little he wanted to risk another such nightmare.

O-O-O-O-O

Hiccup and Beryl walked into the village the next day determined. They eyed everyone in their path, trying to determine if that particular villager or dragon was an imposter. It was a near-impossible task. One they weren't going to give up on. No matter how long it took.

O-O-O-O-O

The next day, several villagers began complaining that Bjorn the Tanner was out, or just missing. When Beryl heard, through eavesdropping on a group of Vikings, both he and Hiccup had immediately leaped at the information, heading to the Tanner's shop.

It was empty. Hiccup scoured the floor, looking for anything suspicious. He eventually looked up, a pain in his back forcing him to take a break. "I could use some help here."

Beryl didn't move from his position several feet outside the building. "No. I value your safety and my nose too much. I keep watch, you search in that place of terrible odors. It is best for both of us."

"Fine." Hiccup shifted a barrel, careful not to spill the noxious contents. On the bright side, no one would notice if he threw up into said barrel. It would fit right in. There was a reason he never made his own leather, always getting it from the Tanner when he needed some. It was said Bjorn had no sense of smell. Whether that had been true before he became a Tanner was up for debate.

However, there was no sign of disturbingly dark ash. Hiccup strode out of the shop nonplussed. "Nothing here. Not that it was likely."

"She could have killed him anywhere. Any place he was alone." Beryl was still watching everyone within sight. "There is no way to stop her, except getting lucky and finding her."

"What if we had every villager pair up with someone else, and never leave them alone?" Hiccup was brainstorming now. "She can't kill anyone unless they're alone, because witnesses would definitely get away sooner or later."

"We have no authority to do that," Beryl grunted, eyeing a villager who was getting closer. "But at least I can trust you. And you me. We have no way of proving anyone else safe."

"Actually..." Hiccup's mind was working now. Beryl's objections had brought something up. "We don't. But there are two people who we can trust." They were desperate. "At least a little, if we give them the right story." Desperate times called for desperate measures.

O-O-O-O-O

"Why are we here again?" Tuffnut cast a glance at Beryl, who he was following closely. "Any ideas?"

"Toothless wants us." Ruffnut shrugged. "When the scary Night Fury wants you to go somewhere, you follow without question. It's basic self-preservation."

"Since when did we care about self-preservation?" Tuffnut sounded offended.

"Can't prank people when you're dead, bro." Was the unamused response.

"A very good point." Tuffnut stumbled, tripping over a discarded broom. "But really, the side of the Great Hall? What's here that he cares about?"

"Think, my dimwitted brother." Ruffnut grinned. "What does Toothless care about?"

"Fish and Hiccup. Not in that order."

"Exactly. Hey Hiccup, we were just talking about you." Ruffnut smiled victoriously as Hiccup stepped out into the open. "Like I said."

Hiccup sighed. "We need your help." Might as well be direct while he could.

"Excellent! You were wise to seek the help of the deadly Thorston Twins." Tuffnut spread his arms wide. "And the world's deadliest weapon. Me."

"Look, I'm serious." Hiccup winced, trying to remember why he had thought this was a good idea. Sure, in theory it was great. The twins were always together, and Vithvarandi couldn't impersonate both of them at the same time, while even successfully impersonating one would be nearly useless. They were guaranteed safe, the only ones he could truly trust besides Beryl. They were, however, the twins. Not the most predictable or useful most of the time. "Listen carefully."

"We're all ears. Except for our noses. And eyes. And, you know, everything else that isn't an ear." Tuffnut and Ruffnut leaned in.

"I can't say much." That was an understatement. "You know how Mildew went missing, and now Bjorn is also missing? I think the two are connected. I need you two to tell me if anyone starts acting suspiciously."

Ruffnut smiled slyly. "On it. We thank you for hiring Thorston and Thorston, sleuths extraordinaire! How did you know we had just started a sleuthing business?"

"I thought we were going to be 'Tuff and Ruff, detectives of stuff'!" Tuffnut whined. "I liked that one better."

"We asked Barf and Belch, remember? They picked my name." Ruffnut turned to Hiccup. "We're on it. The case is afoot!" She and Tuffnut raced out of the Great Hall.

"Why did we do that?" Beryl sneezed. "They even smell weird. Who knows what they've been doing recently."

"We can use any help we can get." Hiccup had his misgivings, but the worst-case scenario was that the twins were useless. Not the end of the world.

O-O-O-O-O

Two days later, Arvind the Strong went missing. That shook both Hiccup and Beryl. Arvind had been around the entire time, sighted multiple times a day going about his business. The worst part was that whenever a new villager was reported missing, they knew Vithvarandi had already moved on. Arvind had likely been dead for days before now.

"Thanks for the help, Tuffnut." Hiccup forced a grateful smile at the twin who had brought the information. "How did you find out?"

"A true sleuth never reveals his sources." Tuffnut grinned. "So I'm fine with telling you Ruffnut overheard Arvind's daughter ask the chief for help finding him." He left, heading back to his sister, who was surveying the area.

Hiccup had heard comments that the twins were acting stranger than usual, but no one took it seriously. He certainly wouldn't have, if he didn't know what they were really doing.

The twins moved out, staring at every villager in their path, arguing with each other as they went.

"We owe them one", Hiccup said to Beryl as they sat on a hill overlooking most of the village, "we certainly wouldn't have known for a while."

"Not like it helps."

"Yeah. That makes four." Hiccup counted off on his fingers. "Mildew, Bjorn, Arvind, and whoever she is now." It irked him that they were always one step behind her. What was her goal anyway? No one had even tried to approach Hiccup, and he had seen her a few times, going about the village. It didn't help, because he only now knew it had been her at the time. Beryl was very good at keeping villagers away, and as he had been doing it since before the trip, no one noticed anything different.

"We need to try something else." Beryl shifted, looking out over the village. He growled in disgust, clawing up clods of dirt and mossy soil beneath his paws.

"You might be right. But what?" Hiccup leaned back, now staring at the cloudy sky above. Those clouds promised long days of drizzle in the near future, a common weather on Berk. "Trying to find her among hundreds of Vikings and dragons isn't working."

"We can think of something." Beryl turned and licked him, purring. "At least now it is a 'we'. I like talking to you more and more as time passes. I don't know if I could go back to how we were before."

"You got the point across." Hiccup smiled, wiping the slobber off.

"It took so much effort to convey simple ideas. And I could not explain anything. This is better." Beryl snorted, pawing at him playfully. "Want to go flying?"

"Sure." They hadn't flown for fun much recently. "Oh, how's your tail?"

"Still growing, still annoying." Beryl shook it for emphasis as he stood, beckoning for Hiccup to rise. "This new fake tailfin helps, but it's still aggravating."

Hiccup had built a tailfin that was slightly modified in structure to accommodate Beryl's slowly growing nubs. Hopefully, it would be sufficient for a while. "Let's go."

O-O-O-O-O

They spent a few hours simply enjoying the unrestricted freedom of flight, Beryl taking them through the sea stacks around the island, steering far clear of other dragons.

Hiccup enjoyed it, but there was a slight itch at the back of his mind. He refused to acknowledge the need to fly on his own. The same need Ember always felt after a few weeks on the ground. It was subtle, but there. There was no thought of resuming Ember's form in his mind, even if only for a few hours to satisfy that urge. Well, he did think about it, but not for long. Beryl wouldn't like it at all, and his best friend was slowly becoming comfortable with even this much change. Hadn't Beryl said he wished they could go back to the way thing were when they had first discovered the full implications, that time in the cove upon their return to Berk? He had changed his mind about that.

Hiccup wasn't sure if he wanted Beryl to change his mind about the rest of it. He wasn't sure if he should use Ember's form ever again, or if it would be evil or wrong to do so. Best to leave that question a hypothetical what-if for now. They had enough to worry about.

Eventually, when they were done swooping and spinning through the air, Beryl headed by habit for the cove. Hiccup was lost in his thoughts, trying to keep the feeling of freedom and safety as they descended back to the far less safe ground below. Not that they sky was safe. Vithvarandi was entirely capable of taking any dragon she wished.

That reminder made him feel far less safe. He reluctantly returned his thoughts to the task at hand as Beryl circled down to land on the far side of the cove.

Beryl barked out in surprise, flaring his wings a moment after he set down. "Astrid!"

Hiccup almost fell out of the saddle as he leaned forward, trying to see over Beryl's head. "Hey!" He slid out of the saddle, hitting the ground and hurrying around Beryl's flared wings. The sight of Astrid stopped him cold.

She was bleeding and bloodied. Not all of the blood was hers because there was no way she'd be standing if that was the case. She raised her bloody ax shakily, pointing it at Hiccup. "I am here... for an explanation." Her voice was cracking, her eyes haunted.

"Wouldn't it be better to see Gothi first..?" Hiccup trailed off as she shook her head. Was it a trick of the eye, or was that a tear he saw forming?

"I'll be fine." Astrid grimaced. "If only to spite her."

"Her?" Hiccup had a bad feeling. "Astrid, what happened? And whose blood is that?"

She laughed, a bitter sound that had Beryl growling uneasily. "Stormfly." She sat down abruptly, landing in the dirt of the cove. "To answer both questions, Stormfly. She attacked me, and this is her blood. We were walking through the woods to my training spot. She just shot spines at my back. No warning." Astrid raised a hand to a shallow furrow in her left arm. "I dodged, but my somersault dive was sloppy. Knew I should have worked on that."

Hiccup waited silently, as Astrid continued her tale. His mind was numb, conclusions on hold until he had heard everything Astrid had to say.

"I tried to get her to stop." Astrid gestured with her free hand, palm out. "Talking, pleading, threatening. She just kept attacking." She waved to the rest of her. "As you can see. I fought back," she hefted her ax weakly, "and after a while, she just... left. Flew off. Thor knows why, or where she went. Then I saw you flying down here. So here I am."

"Because..."

"Because if anyone knows what happened, it's you." Astrid grimaced. "Your little trick with her last time showed that much. Did I do something wrong? Hurt her somehow? Or did she just decide to kill me for no reason?" Her voice was angry. "Feel free to tell me."

Hiccup knew very well what had happened. Just as his dreams had said, it was his fault.

That must have shown on his face. Astrid glared at him. "You know something. Tell me!"

Beryl stepped in between her and Hiccup, growling at her.

Without thought, Hiccup intervened. "Beryl, stop. She isn't threatening me..." Though this all might be an elaborate ploy by Vithvarandi.

"No. We don't know for sure." Beryl nonetheless stepped slightly aside, clearly still ready to intervene in a heartbeat.

Astrid was eyeing Hiccup suspiciously. "Beryl?"

So much for acting normal and not giving anything away. Hiccup grimaced. "Not important."

"Wrong. Very important." Somehow, despite being injured and currently sitting down, Astrid managed to sound intimidating. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

"What-"

"You. Hiding things, keeping secrets. Avoiding the village for days, then coming back and acting weird. What could it possibly be this time?" That was said cynically. "You already turned our world upside-down once. Aren't you satisfied with that?"

"I was!" Hiccup shook his head, denying her accusation. "This time isn't my doing. But it is my fault."

"Hiccup, what did you do?" Astrid's voice was cold.

"I... can't tell you." He just couldn't. "This is too hard to explain."

"My own dragon tried to kill me. I deserve to know!" Astrid had gotten to her feet, and she was pointing her bloody ax at Hiccup, ignoring Beryl's snarling.

Hiccup didn't answer. His mind was connecting the dots now, as he processed Astrid's story. Vithvarandi was clearly the true attacker. Taking Astrid might actually be her goal, though if it was he had no idea why she had apparently given up so easily. It wouldn't have been hard for Vithvarandi to find out he had a crush on Astrid. Or, had in the past had one. Not like anyone knew that was no longer the case. In a twisted way, it made perfect sense. Vithvarandi had come back for him. He still, to her knowledge, had an attachment here. Take that body, and there would be nothing stopping Hiccup from being with her, and she would even be able to look like the one he liked. Nothing stopping Hiccup except the fact that he was in no way attracted to someone who killed at will, taking the bodies and memories of other people for their own personal gain, a twisted form of immortality obtained through ending the lives of others.

She would keep going after Astrid, after him. Probably after him, if given a choice, if she thought that he was no longer attracted to Astrid. Maybe that was why she hadn't pushed it as Stormfly. The issue was, he had no idea what her plan was, if it wasn't to take Astrid. Regardless, her being in the village, after him, was dangerous.

He knew what needed to be done now. He got on Beryl's back, staring at Astrid sadly. "I can't explain. But I can try and stop it from happening again. Do not trust Stormfly if you see her again. She's gone. Something else has taken her place, something dangerous."

"If I see her again, I'll-"

Hiccup cut her off. "Run. Stay away. This is something far too dangerous for you to fight. Killing her would not be the end." Enigmatic warnings were the best compromise he could come up with. Too bad they made Astrid even angrier. Hopefully, her weakened state would prevent her from doing anything too rash.

"I don't run from anything!"

"Anything but this. She's after you, and me. Mostly me. When I leave, she'll follow." That was the plan. "Bud, we need to go home." If it was still home. This couldn't be some half-hearted decision. They needed to leave for good, and not come back until Vithvarandi was... dead. Truly dead, if that was even possible. Otherwise, she'd just kill more villagers, trying to get into a position to get at Hiccup.

He and Beryl left Astrid there, ignoring her screams of rage as they powered out of the cove. Beryl winged his way towards the chief's house, asking only a single question. "Are we leaving now?"

"As soon as I get some stuff together from my room." Simply disappearing from Berk would work best. Astrid would take care of spreading the word when she got back, and Vithvarandi would lose interest in the village but have no way to track them... hopefully. She had somehow found them here. The sun was setting. "We'll leave at sundown." No one followed a Night Fury at night.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **I suppose I might have warned of character death, but I did hint that I wasn't averse to killing off characters with the death of Mildew. Farewell Stormfly. If Vithvarandi's actions don't make any sense, rest assured Hiccup is as confused as you are at the moment. Anyone have a guess as to where this is going next chapter? I'll say now, next chapter might be the darkest yet. As a side note, chapter 11 will be posted a day early, Friday morning instead of Saturday, and 12 will come on time as per the usual schedule.**


	11. Futility

_**Author's Note:**_ **It's technically Friday, albeit only by two minutes when I post this. Posting because I happen to be up and able at the time. I'm heading into a wi-fi dead zone until late the 25th, so any particular reviewers (you know who you are) who I regularly respond to, that will be when I can get to it. On the flip side, this is nine days dedicated in a large degree to writing free of distraction, and the sequel to this story is pretty high on the list. I wrote a 160,000-word story in 21 days. Let's see what I can do with nine.**

What to bring into indefinite exile? Hiccup was never very good at packing, and this particular situation made it even harder. He only had the limited space in Beryl's saddlebags, along with whatever he could carry.

Food wasn't an issue when traveling with a Night Fury. Water, however, could at times be less simple. He picked up two large canteens and added them to the pile.

Beryl was nosing around the room, trying to be helpful. "What is this for?" He held up a metal object.

"That's a hinge. It lets stuff move." Hiccup sighed. "Ignore the random metal bits. I never clean up failed inventions, in case I can reuse stuff." He had actually moved a lot of said miscellaneous junk aside recently, in preparation for some vague plan of moving a flat rock up into the loft for Toothless to sleep on. No need for that now. He added drawing supplies to the saddle bag. Those were always useful. His personal map was still on him.

"How about this?" Beryl held up a spare prosthetic.

"That's a good idea." Hiccup stuck it in the bag. "We should bring some canvas and connecting rods too, for your tail." They'd pick those up from his space in the blacksmith's shop on the way out.

And so it went, as the two sorted through everything Hiccup owned, trying to decide what would be worth bringing. Hiccup left all of his drawings and various journals, notebooks. They weren't vital, though he didn't like the idea of them being left behind. Luckily, he had never documented anything past their trip, so there was nothing really dangerous in those books. Not that knowing of Vithvarandi was dangerous, more that being around her was. He'd be luring that danger with him when he went.

Eventually, they were left with full saddlebags and a substantially messier room than when they had started. Hiccup judged that night was falling at the moment. He looked around, knowing this would likely be the last time in a long while that he saw it. "Time to go."

He headed down the stairs, Beryl behind him. They were interrupted at the door by a deep and familiar voice. "Where are you two off to?"

Stoick. He hadn't really considered that his father might be home. Stoick rarely was, after all. Dealing with a village of Vikings was constant work. "Oh, nowhere important."

"So stay. I need to speak with you, son." Stoick gestured for Hiccup to come back.

Hiccup reluctantly sat across from his father, who was watching him from across the table. Beryl sat down at his side, seemingly alert. Only Hiccup could see the tension in his friend, the paranoia that never fully left nowadays. "What is it?"

"You've been spending more time in the village recently. That is good." Stoick smiled. "I was beginning to think you wanted to live in the woods, you spent so much time there."

Hiccup didn't respond.

Stoick continued calmly, as immovable as a boulder. "I also heard about your little spat with Astrid." He didn't seem mad, more amused than anything.

"Which one?" Hiccup laughed sadly. "There've been a few."

"Does it matter?" Stoick leaned in. "I put her in charge of dealing with the dragons because she was the best one available at the time. I half assumed you'd take over once you were able to."

"That would be dishonorable."

Stoick waved his objection away. "No, not like that. I thought you'd work something out between yourselves. But now..." His expression changed slightly. "Do you want the job? I can remove her officially."

That was unexpected. Hiccup could only rarely recall Stoick going back on a decision like that. "You'd do that?"

"Yes, I would."

"Well, while I'm flattered..." Hiccup steeled himself. "I can't take it from her, and I wouldn't be able to anyway."

"Why not?" Stoick seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Ah, you want to be training to become chief full time, is that it? I should have guessed."

"Uh, no, actually-"

Stoick's voice turned serious. "You know, being chief isn't all fun and games. I remember nights where I needed two blocks of ice to deal with the headaches."

Of course, he remembered. That was last week. Hiccup snorted. "So do I. But-"

"And you are aware you would have to do what's best for the tribe." Something changed in Stoick's voice. "There are sacrifices a chief must make."

Hiccup hardened his voice. "No, dad, I won't be training to become chief. There's something I have to do first."

"And what would that be?" Stoick laughed. "Finding some foreign wife and bringing her back here? You seem done with Astrid." His voice was probing.

"No, not at all." Hiccup noted that Stoick's face fell a little. "I need to do something... and I don't know how long it will take, or where I'm going."

"What?"

"I can't say."

"Then I forbid you to go anywhere." Stoick slammed his hand down, the wooden table shaking from the impact. "Your duty is here."

"Something is not right." Beryl sounded troubled. "Convince him to let us leave."

Hiccup agreed. There was something off here, something he was missing. A tiny worm of suspicion was beginning to grow in his mind. He pressed harder. "Dad, trust me, this is for the good of our people. A chief protects their own." And the only way he could protect his own was to leave them, to get Vithvarandi away from them.

"Is this about that lizard of yours?" Stoick pointed at Beryl. "You already tried to fix him. Maybe it's time for the son of the chief to get a more obedient dragon if this one is being stubborn."

"I thought stubbornness was something our people valued," Hiccup retorted, quite stung by Stoick's words and angered by the very suggestion, "and Beryl is family."

"Be that as it may, you know everything you do reflects upon me. Everything that lizard does reflects upon you. A chief cannot be surrounded with those who ignore his commands, even if they think they're acting in his best interests."

"This isn't about him anyway. It's something about me, something I need to do. You left on quests in your youth, why do you deny me the same?" That worm of doubt had grown. Hiccup was acting on it, probing Stoick. This argument wasn't something he normally would have used. It brought back painful memories for his father.

"I went in search of Valka, yes." Stoick was controlling his ever-present grief well today, his voice only tightening a little. "It was necessary, but I left my responsibilities to do so. I will not allow you to do the same, not without knowing the reason."

It was becoming clearer now, that odd little doubt growing within him. Not clear enough to act upon, but clear enough to test. "I can't tell you. Just... make sure..." This would be a good test, though he no longer meant what he was about to imply. "Make sure Astrid knows I want to come back."

Stoick frowned. "You do still care for her? Honestly, I wasn't sure." He leaned in. "Has someone else caught your eye?"

At that moment, Hiccup's doubts crystalized. He could put a name to them now, and they were no longer doubts, but conviction. With that revelation came... rage. Pure, unadulterated rage, flowing through both sides of him. It had been subtle. So subtle, what he saw.

He stood, bowing his head. "You know what? You're right. We will stay." Moving over to Beryl's side, he began removing the saddlebags, or at least making it look like that was what he was doing. "Beryl and I know our duty." One final confirmation of what he knew.

"Good." Stoick began to stand.

There was no hesitance in Hiccup now. He met Beryl's eye, pure cold rage meeting confusion. A whisper broke the silence between them, unheard by Stoick. "Trust me. Fire."

Beryl's eyes widened, and he visibly hesitated, looking at Hiccup, seeming to ask if he was actually serious.

He nodded. "Kill her."

Beryl understood. Without warning he fired, a blue blast hurtling across the room and hitting Stoick in the chest in a heartbeat. The explosion destroyed the table and set fire to several supporting beams. All was still as the dust settled and the black ash floated across the room, stirred by the displacement of air brought on by the plasma blast.

So many little hints. The disdain for Astrid. Probing about how he felt about her, asking about others who might have caught his eye, practically giving him the perfect excuse to introduce a foreign woman with no questions asked. And the most telling of all. Stoick was no idiot. He had never heard the name Beryl before. At least, Stoick had never heard it or remembered it being used to refer to a black Night Fury.

Vithvarandi, however...

The black ash floated in the air like a dark dust, throwing the room into gloom despite the torches scattered around and the fire in the hearth. A nondescript Viking Hiccup recognized as Arvind the Strong stood, rage painted across his face.

Hiccup wasn't in the mood to talk, to wait. He attacked without thought, throwing a knife like he had practiced that day with the tree. It hit Arvind square in the neck, and after a shocked gurgle he too collapsed into a pile of black ash, Vithvarandi deprived of another body. She retaliated almost immediately, a plume of black flame surrounding whatever form she had been knocked into.

Beryl pounced, trying to drive Vithvarandi down while she changed. He was thrown back by the flames, before barely avoiding a blast of flaring white fire. Then a very familiar Nadder rushed Beryl, her mouth open and preparing to fire again.

Hiccup tackled her, slamming her against another support beam. The house groaned in protest, wood shifting as weight was redistributed. He didn't care.

Vithvarandi kicked him off with her powerful legs, glaring at him. She made to move for the door.

She was stopped by Beryl, who tore into her from the side, his teeth and claws raking bloody scratches across her legs. He only got a few good hits in before being again slammed back by the eruption of black fire.

Hiccup fired into the torrent of flames, realizing that he had at some point assumed Ember's form without even trying to. Letting the body of a battle-ready Night Fury replace his own seemed like a good idea anyway, and now was not the time to worry about the moral implications.

Now was the time to avenge his father.

His blast did nothing that he could see, and the flames disappeared to reveal... nothing.

Beryl stared at the empty space. "Is that it?"

A bloody gash torn across his side by nothing either of them could see answered his question. Beryl roared in pain and turned, swiping through the now empty air with his claws. There was a pause as both Hiccup and Beryl looked around the house.

The ash and dust swirling through the air gave her away in the end. Hiccup saw a distortion, a place in the room where there was no ash. Vithvarandi was standing immediately beneath one of the main logs the floorboards of the loft were laid upon, next to one of the few undamaged supports. Waiting for another chance to attack.

"Beryl, run!" He blasted at her, intentionally aiming for the support beam through her invisible form. Then he ran, aiming for a wall that Stoick had spoken of repairing soon, one with slightly weaker logs and wood.

He had time for one thought. This was going to hurt.

The plasma blast exploded against the support, Vithvarandi having moved out of the way even as he aimed it. He felt the shockwave push him forward, tucked his head and angled his shoulder at the wall. The crack and crunch of the wood was surprisingly loud, and also surprisingly painless. Upon landing he rolled, wooden shards jabbing his back along the way. There was a loud and prolonged crash behind him, along with the subtle 'whoosh' of fire catching.

He got to his feet, noting Beryl on the stairs leading to the Great Hall. His home, Stoick's house, had both collapsed and caught fire with that final blast, going from a proud Viking house complete with decorative wooden carvings to a large, elaborate pile of tinder. Small flames licked at it in many places, casting flickering lights out into the darkness.

The rubble shifted, groaned. Both he and Beryl tensed, ignoring the shocked cries of several villagers who had been nearby, who had seen the destruction. This was far from over.

A small, indistinct shape flitted from behind the pile. Hiccup leaped into the air even as Beryl ran after her from the ground, both chasing after that expanding bolt of black flame. Rage drove both of them, making them heedless of their wounds. Beryl was still dripping blood from his side, and Hiccup had a few pieces of wood lodged in his back. Neither cared.

Vithvarandi dropped like a rock, landing in the village square, in the form of a large Monstrous Nightmare, a dark blue one made black by the night and flickering torchlight. She roared, a sound of frustration and anger. "Stop attacking-"

A blast tore a hole through one of her wings, effectively shutting her up, or at least replacing her objections with a scream of agony. Hiccup landed in front of her as Beryl sprinted in from the side, both moving to flank her, pacing like predators.

Hiccup was embracing every memory Ember had left him, letting himself treat them as his own. Ember had taught Beryl to fight. He knew his son, had taught him and Spark how to fight as a team. Spark was not here, but Ember could take his place. Both sides of him wanted Vithvarandi dead, truly and without hesitation now. He was entirely focused.

Vithvarandi snarled, lighting her body on fire in preparation. "You were to be mine. I am holding back, can you not tell?! Stop attacking!"

"You killed my father. You killed my mate." Hiccup snarled loudly, a sound that would freeze the blood of any who heard it. "I will never stop attacking you." With that, both Night Furies pounced, Beryl taking his cues from Hiccup. They latched on and bit down, tearing into any vulnerable part within reach, ignoring the creeping pain the fire of the Nightmare's skin brought even to fireproof dragons. It was inconsequential. The noises of the fight echoed throughout the village, easily rivaling and surpassing anything heard in the worst of the raids of years past. Constant bellows, shrieks, and roars, of Night Furies and all other types of dragons, those of pain and rage.

O-O-O-O-O

Snotlout woke to the cacaphony, smacking his head on a bedpost as he scrambled up, grabbing a helmet and sword before rushing out of the house, spurred on by months of training not easily forgotten. He realized that they were not in fact in the middle of a raid after a few moments of standing in the middle of the dark street.

"What is Hiccup's dumb dragon-?" Snotlout was cut off by another unholy screech anyone would recognize as the signature of a Night Fury. "Yikes." It sounded like something was dying out there.

Tuffnut stumbled past him, seemingly in a daze. Snotlout grabbed him by the shoulder. "Are you crazy?"

Tuffnut looked at him for a moment. "I'm not the one out here in underwear and a helmet. Come on, let's go watch!"

Snotlout followed his friend warily, hoping Astrid wasn't around to see him. Or maybe she'd like what she saw... That thought gave him courage. It wasn't like she was looking at Hiccup anymore, so he still had a chance with her, at least in his own mind.

He ran into Tuffnut as he was daydreaming, falling back into the mud. Great. Definitely didn't want Astrid to see him now. "Why'd you stop?"

"It's... glorious." Tuffnut's voice was exuberant. "Ooh, that's gotta hurt." After a moment he spoke again, less enthused. "Actually... this is kind of a bit much."

Snotlout stood, moving to see what Tuffnut was admiring. All the while, those inhuman shrieks of rage and pain assaulted his ears. He crested the small hill and looked down into the plaza.

The sight shocked him into silence, a rare occurrence for any Jorgenson. There were two Night Furies, which in itself was a shock. One was clearly Toothless, the other a dark orange and slightly larger. They were fighting a third dragon ferociously, a Monstrous Nightmare if he had to guess, though it was hard to tell at this point, it was so wounded, bleeding profusely and only partially lit, large sections of its scale and skin gone or damaged, shadowed by the flickering torches and its own flames.

The Night Furies were killing it. Before Snotlout could even think of intervening, it died, Toothless ripping its throat out while the other Fury distracted it. The Nightmare promptly collapsed into a massive pile of black ash. The two Night Furies immediately attacked a strange dragon that definitely hadn't been there before, one with four heads that all acted independently, striking and snapping.

Tuffnut's jaw dropped. "I'm dreaming."

"No... definitely not." Snotlout hated that his voice was shaking, but he couldn't help it. Besides, black magic was one thing all Vikings were scared of. This was definitely one such case, so it wasn't embarrassing to be scared out of his mind. Right?

The Night Furies were working together, it was clear, baiting and attacking the heads in tandem. Snotlout recognized tactics when he saw them, though he wasn't the greatest at coming up with his own. The Furies took turns baiting a head, the other tearing into it with claws and teeth as soon as one head was far enough from the others, all while fighting off the other three. They were receiving small wounds, but the four-headed dragon was definitely coming out the loser in each exchange. Dragon blood stained the ground around them.

After actually losing a head, the dragon recoiled, becoming engulfed in unnatural black flame. Snotlout stared as the flame receded to reveal a Nadder. A very familiar Nadder, who immediately put the Furies on the defensive with a barrage of razor-sharp spikes.

"Stormfly?"

He hadn't even realized that Astrid was right behind him until that point. As such, he was too busy trying not to fall flat on his face from surprise while she raced past him, ax drawn. Straight into the most violent and unnatural battle he had ever seen.

O-O-O-O-O

Hiccup roared in pain as a spine grazed the edge of his wing, cutting a furrow along the bone. Vithvarandi seemed very effective in the body of a Nadder, unlike that of a Snaptrapper, which she had switched out of once they had relieved it of one of its heads. Who knew how that worked for a real Snaptrapper, let alone Vithvarandi. Either way, she was much harder to deal with now, and she definitely wasn't holding anything back.

Beryl knocked her back with a blast, leaping across a row of spines sticking out of the ground like a sharp fence, getting in a good slash across Vithvarandi's chest before leaping back to avoid her clawed kick.

In a moment of inspiration, Hiccup grabbed a spine out of the ground, holding it sideways in his jaws. The sharp edges cut into his gums a little, but he didn't care. He could barely feel the many small and few large injuries he had sustained, which was likely thanks to the adrenaline running through him. Beryl and Vithvarandi were tangling in close quarters now, Beryl keeping the much less agile dragon on the defensive.

Hiccup could almost see the intent clear in Vithvarandi's frenzied eyes. She was going to switch to some other form to throw Beryl off, as she had done several times. He wasn't going to give her a chance.

He leaped into the tangle, grunting for Beryl to back off, before slamming the spine sideways, straight into Stormfly's chest. Right into her heart, which their short claws couldn't reach. She shrieked, convulsing and flinging him back, before stilling and crumbling into black ash. He ignored the small blip of pressure in that place in the back of his head. It wasn't important.

Fatigue was distant but palpable. That had been their fourth, maybe fifth kill so far, and Vithvarandi seemed to get all her energy back with each new form. They were being worn down, despite apparently winning the individual battles.

He looked to the side in the moment it took Vithvarandi to die and saw a lone figure standing in the middle of the open space, ax at her side in shock and confusion. Astrid.

A force slammed into his side and neck, flipping him and pinning him to the ground. The bulk of a Gronckle blurred by black flame to become Mildew, with a knife held to his throat.

"STOP!" Mildew's body yelled, pressing harder. "Stop or you die." It whispered to Hiccup. "Though I should just relieve you of this troublesome form, I want you sane. Losing the first one is quite... traumatizing, damaging. I'd not have that happen now."

"Yeah... because you killing my father and mate wasn't traumatizing enough." Hiccup could see Beryl out of the corner of his eye, preparing to fire from where Vithvarandi had apparently thrown him. Blood streamed down his friend's face, but Beryl wasn't out of the fight yet.

"Others are expendable. You must lea-" Mildew's sneering voice cut off with a jerk as an ax buried itself in his chest. Astrid's ax, thrown by her from half the plaza away. In a moment of lucidity, Hiccup felt almost insulted. She really thought he couldn't get away from an old man with a knife?

He rolled away, struggling to his feet as the telltale black flames immediately engulfed whatever Vithvarandi had been, as Mildew's body crumbled to ash.

Tired. He was tired. No rest though, as a Terror lunged for his eyes, its small size and high speed making it impossible to hit in time with a blast, his fatigue slowing him. He reacted without thought, copying what he had seen Vithvarandi do throughout the fight. Blue flames engulfed him, and by the time the Terror reached where his head had been, unable to stop its momentum, it was met with a hunting knife through the length of it. More ash, another little blip of pressure in his head, and yet another form, this one a Viking with a crossbow. Vithvarandi immediately spun and aimed at Beryl, who had been sprinting towards them.

Astrid swept the Viking's legs out from under him, pinning him to the ground.

Hiccup had forgotten she was there. "Astrid, don't-"

A flash of black and Astrid was hurled back. Hiccup couldn't move fast enough to catch her, her body limply falling through the air. Beryl, however, managed to get under her, at least partially breaking her fall with his wings and back. She tumbled onto the ground, unconscious.

Vithvarandi was now in the body of a dragon Hiccup didn't recognize right away. That is until it spit acid at him. "Changewing!" He shifted back to Ember in an instant, hoping the blue flames would repel acid as well as they apparently did other creatures.

It worked, but by the time his vision cleared, she was gone. Changewings could camouflage themselves against almost anything, as they had seen back in the house. She could be anywhere, preparing to strike.

The plaza was silent, save for the crackle of a few fires started in the battle. Beryl was standing over Astrid's unconscious body, doing his best to look in every direction at once.

Only those in the plaza itself heard Vithvarandi's final words, uttered from seemingly nowhere, floating through the darkness

"This is not over. If I cannot have you with me, I will end you. For now, I give you time to reconsider. Even though you have harmed me, I am willing to forgive..." Her voice drifted off.

Time passed, neither of them truly believing she had left. At length, Astrid stirred.

Hiccup groaned. "So much for protecting the village by leaving." They had gotten the idea too late. And judging by the number of witnesses, this was not going to be something that could be explained away... and she still wasn't gone for good.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **And the (non-corporeal) prize goes to** _ **Living Lucid Dream,**_ **for calling the Stoick(Vithvarandi) scene! I really didn't think anyone would guess that.**

 **The non-OC death count continues to rise. This story is quite violent, unlike almost anything else I've got out at the moment (** _ **Namesake**_ **being the notable exception). It's oddly freeing to have no-holds-barred fights, compared to the pesky moral standards the protagonists in most of my other works hold. It won't get much more graphic than this, though there are a few shock moments in other future fights that will probably make the more squeamish among my readers flinch. (As a side note, where is the line between T-level violence and M-level? I'm not going to cross it, or even come close, but it would be nice to know.)**

 **Also, has anyone noticed the odd properties the fire of transformation possesses? It burns anyone but the user, spreads from the palms, is apparently capable of an unnatural amount of force coming from what should be something intangible… The transformation might be the purpose, but the fire that facilitates it is not insignificant. Interestingly, the fire's properties grew out of necessity, while I tried to determine whether hypothetically shifting in a small area into a form too big would kill the shifter or not. The properties of the fire are my answer to encroaching mass during transformation. It's not entirely necessary to know, but for those who are interested, the fire is something of a repelling factor, capable of responding to any force exerted from outside with an equal and opposite reaction. And that's if the wielder is standing still. Any force exerted from behind the fire is amplified exponentially, along with that natural repulsing factor. Of course, this is limited by the fact that the fire is only called out in between forms, and the shift takes less than ten seconds at its slowest. I do like developing my mechanisms, it seems...**


	12. Aftermath

Hiccup watched as Astrid struggled to her feet, moving away from himself and Beryl, retrieving her ax. Once she had it she spun, her eyes searching for the enemy that had disappeared into the night while she was unconscious.

He took that time to try and calm down. The battle rage was fading, leaving behind weariness and pain, both physical and emotional. That could be dealt with later. "Beryl. Are you hurt badly?" It was obvious both of them were hurt, the question was how severely.

"Not really. Just a bunch of little things." Beryl shifted, eyeing him. "You fought to protect me as much as to attack her. You took more damage than I did." His voice was cautious.

"I'll live." None of his injuries were life-threatening. But why would that reassurance make Beryl flinch?

Oh, right. It might be a bit odd to say that... while in Ember's form. He was going to have to switch back, sooner rather than later, if only to... explain. Gods, how was he going to explain any of this?

With the truth. There was nothing to be gained from hiding things now. Maybe if he had stayed as Ember for the entire fight. That hadn't happened. He had switched back to his other form multiple times, visible to anyone who was watching.

Looking up, he could see spectators, shocked Vikings watching from the shadows, from all sides. It must have been quite a spectacle, to keep the Vikings from joining the battle. A very bloody, violent spectacle with no clear purpose apparent.

Astrid had by now determined for herself that the threat was gone. She was staring at Hiccup, or more accurately at Ember. "I saw..."

He met her eyes and bowed his head. She knew, of course she knew. At least she wasn't attacking on sight. Or maybe she just didn't have the strength to do so at the moment. Aware of the watching eyes, he shifted back to his human form, the blue flames mercifully concealing Astrid from his sight as he did, if only momentarily.

Astrid's eyes widened. She had seen it before, but this time there was no distraction of battle. "What... are you?"

"Myself." Hiccup shook his head sadly. "I had hoped to leave. To draw her away. It didn't go as planned." He could see the other teens creeping into hearing distance, warily keeping their distance. From him.

"Who... is her?" Astrid's voice was shaking. "I saw Stormfly. I saw you kill her." She shifted her hold on her ax. "I saw two Night Furies kill her."

"She was already gone. Every dragon and Viking you saw us fight... already dead. Their bodies were there, but the mind inhabiting them was not theirs." He scowled. "It was the mind of the one known as Vithvarandi. She is who we fought."

"We." Astrid's voice wavered. "Toothless... you... and..?"

"His name was Ember." Hiccup turned away, not meeting Astrid's eyes. "He too is also already dead. The only difference is that I took him from Vithvarandi." His voice dropped to a whisper. "There is no difference between us, Astrid. She gave me the same powers she has, though I didn't want them."

Astrid was slowly regaining her confidence. "That makes no sense. What-"

"I wish I knew!" Hiccup yelled. "I don't know where it comes from, or why it's even possible. I just know a bit of how it works. Enough to despise it." He was distinctly aware of the crowd that had gathered, of the fact that he was basically talking to the entire village. "So that's what's going on. There's a monster in human or dragon form killing people and stealing their bodies and memories. The perfect impersonator, because she can remember everything. Vithvarandi. She's after me. Because she made me like her, but I will _not_ be like her."

Astrid stared at him as if he had lost his mind. But those blue flames and that other body of his proved his words beyond doubt. "When..?"

"A few weeks ago, while we were away." Hiccup looked down. "There's an island, one of dying trees and thorns everywhere. Never go there. I don't know what else might be down there. What we found was bad enough."

"So... what now?" Astrid's voice was cold. "You're... even weirder now. I don't know what Stoick is going to say about all of this."

Hiccup felt his heart drop. It probably showed on his face, as Astrid frowned after a moment. "Yeah, we'll never know. That's how the fight started. I caught her... as Stoick. He's gone too."

"Which... makes you chief." They both heard the mutters of shock and surprise from the village around them.

Hiccup noticed that the village was entirely content letting Astrid speak for them, which was nice as it prevented a screaming mob, at least for the moment. An idea came to him, one solution out of the many he needed to find. "No." He was not going to be chief. Not now, not like this. He'd be driven out of the village. Vikings did not tolerate wielders of black magic, and he didn't blame them. Besides...

The painful conflict between two fundamentally different languages.

The awkward interactions with everyone around him.

Astrid, cold and in control. Stoick, dead. Other Vikings, dead. Stormfly, gone.

This place held nothing for him or Beryl now. Berk was no longer home. Home was where family and safety existed. Nowhere was safe from Vithvarandi, and the only family he had left was Beryl. Who didn't like living in Berk. Hiccup agreed, now. They would leave.

"You're his son, you can't-"

Hiccup cut her off, his voice sad but determined. "I have to. She'll come back if I don't." His presence brought death, it was clear now. Vithvarandi had no regard for the lives of others.

He continued loudly. "I hereby renounce any claim to the throne of Berk, in favor of Astrid Hofferson. May she lead long and well." He looked over at her. "You'll probably do better than I ever could anyway."

Astrid was shocked into silence by his declaration. Her ax fell from numb fingers, landing with a muted thud in a small pool of blood.

"We have to disappear. Off the edge of the map, so to speak." Hiccup was talking to himself as much as Astrid or Beryl. "She can follow us, will probably find us somehow. So we go somewhere isolated, somewhere no dragons or humans live. That way we cannot be surprised." It would work.

"So you're just going to leave," Astrid spoke as if in a daze. "You trash part of the village, fight a shape-shifting witch as a Night Fury, and then just up and leave?"

"Thank you for summing that up. Yes." Hiccup glanced over at Beryl. "Looks like our saddlebags survived the fight mostly intact, so we're ready to go."

He didn't go to Beryl yet though. Looking around, there were a few final things he could do, before they went. He walked over to the other teens, who flinched but held their ground as he approached. Why Snotlout was in his underwear was a mystery. "Fishlegs."

Fishlegs jumped a good foot into the air with a squeak. "Yes?"

"Is Meatlug around?" He didn't see her.

"I'll go get her!" Fishlegs ran off. At least he was heading towards the Ingerman household.

Hiccup turned to the twins. "Stay crazy, you two. But not too crazy. And thanks for the help. I was hoping you'd catch Vithvarandi, but it was a good attempt."

"So that's why you wanted us to..." Ruffnut smiled. "Coulda just told us, H. We can keep a secret."

"Yeah! Especially one as cool-"

"It's not cool." Hiccup cut Tuffnut off brusquely. "Not something to show off, or play with."

"Well, way to ruin the mood," Ruffnut muttered.

Hiccup turned to Snotlout, who took a step back. "Relax." He managed a small grin. "I know you don't want to be seen as afraid of me."

That got Snotlout's ego into the matter. Snotlout scoffed, doing a fairly good job of hiding his discomfort. "I'm not scared of you." The hidden corollary to that was that he was scared of the Night Fury Hiccup could be.

"Good. Are you mad I bypassed you? You were next in line." He'd make sure Astrid became chief, no matter what Snotlout's response was. Snotlout wasn't fit for the job.

Apparently, Snotlout knew that. "No, she can have it." He sounded entirely sincere. "I kinda figured out I didn't want the job over the winter when my dad started getting me ready. You know, in case you... didn't wake up."

"Right." Hiccup saw Fishlegs returning with Meatlug. "I wish you luck with whatever you end up doing." He turned to Fishlegs and Meatlug, the former nervous and the latter annoyed at being woken up. Apparently, she had been able to sleep through all of that noise.

Meatlug spoke in annoyance. "What is going on?"

"What is going on is that I want to know if you have anything to say to Fishlegs." Hiccup smiled. "Now's your chance."

Fishleg's mouth dropped open. Hiccup frowned at him. "You didn't even suspect they were more than animals, despite her trying to show you."

"Yes." Meatlug looked over at Fishlegs. "Tell him I'm not satisfied until he can hold a true conversation with me. And tell him the communication problem is on his end, but I don't blame him for his ignorance." That was said lightly.

Hiccup repeated Meatlug's words, and Fishlegs' eyes were as wide as they could get by the end of it. Then Hiccup added his own comment. "If you do learn, be prepared for the side effects. Knowing both languages isn't the most fun for humans or dragons." He felt Fishlegs deserved a warning about what he was getting into. "But it's worth it."

"Side effects?"

"It's kind of hard to explain, but our speech and that of dragons don't really play well together. Hearing both at once is uncomfortable. It's tolerable though." It was worth it, though living in a village wasn't comfortable. Maybe it couldn't be learned normally by a human. But if anyone could do it, it would be Fishlegs.

Hiccup realized what he was doing. Saying goodbye. Might as well make it obvious. "Fishlegs. I left the chieftainship to Astrid. I leave advocating for dragons to you. The human side anyway." To Snotlout, he handed one of his knives. "To you, defending all of this." The twins got nothing tangible. Hiccup didn't exactly have anything they'd want anyway. Except... "Ruffnut, Tuffnut. You have my permission to never grow up."

The twins high-fived. Snotlout nodded solemnly. Fishlegs was not satisfied, however. "Hiccup, do you have to go right this second?"

"Well, it would be a good idea." Who knew where Vithvarandi was. Hopefully, she would really give them time. He wasn't counting on that.

"Can you... uh, maybe show us? The other Night Fury." He squirmed. "Just for a few minutes. I never got a good look, what with the... fighting."

Hiccup would be surprised if Fishlegs had even been able to watch that. Violence was not the studious teen's preferred entertainment. But he really didn't want-

"You should."

"What?" Hiccup stared at Beryl, who had spoken. "Why?"

"We fought to defend them, in part." Beryl's voice was considering. "Let them see the other part of you. So that they don't remember him as a weapon of war."

"He is no weapon." Hiccup agreed wholeheartedly on that. "Okay, fine. A few minutes."

"Oy!" Gobber pushed his way through the crowd. "Aren't ya gonna say goodbye to me first?"

Hiccup grinned. "I wasn't planning on leaving like that. Beryl needs me human to fly, remember?"

"Beryl?"

"Oh, right. That's Toothless's real name." Apparently, that didn't really surprise Gobber.

"Eh, it suits him. Not that Toothless didn't... though from what I saw, neither of you is. Toothless, that is. Plenty of teeth in that brawl." Gobber coughed. "See ya around."

"Probably not." Hiccup could see that Gobber wasn't planning on accepting that as an answer. "Then again, you never know."

"All I ask." Gobber waved a hook vaguely in the direction of the burned house. "It hasn't really... sunken in yet, has it?" The way he said it, Hiccup knew he was speaking for the both of them.

"No, it hasn't." He'd deal with that later. There would be no funeral to attend to, as there was no body.

That thought cracked his resolve. He needed to get out of here before it shattered. But he had one last thing to do. That pocket in his head was still there, and he knew how to use it.

"Everyone. This is Ember." The rest of his statement was too quiet for anyone else to hear. "My other half." With that, he triggered the change, watching the blue flames flood out of his hands and up his arms. They were in no way natural. Burning to the touch, impassible by physical force, but entirely painless and intangible to him.

When they receded, he could feel his wings, his far more maneuverable ears. The multitude of wounds this form retained. Ouch. Still nothing deadly, but several of them needed to be rested. Later. So many things to be saved for later.

He turned and lifted his wings, giving Fishlegs and the rest of the village a good look. As the only other Night Fury they'd ever seen, he knew they'd like that.

But his attention was drawn to the one person who'd seen Ember before. So long ago. Beryl was staring sadly, eyes solemn and pained.

Beryl whined softly. "He's gone, but standing in front of me. It hurts."

Hiccup couldn't resist. He walked over and pawed at Beryl until he looked up, eyes showing his sorrow. Once Beryl was looking at him, he carefully set his chin on top of his head, leaning in. The Fury equivalent of a hug, from what he remembered. "Partially. But his memories are still here. And so am I."

Beryl relaxed and leaned back into the gesture. "It is strange."

Hiccup couldn't help but voice his opinion on that, the one he'd been slowly forming over the weeks. "But not necessarily bad or good. Just strange." That was something he needed to believe. Because if this power was inherently evil, so was he. He would choose to believe that it was what a person did with it that made it evil or not.

"Maybe." Beryl sniffed, inhaling deeply after a moment. He then pulled away reluctantly, ears flicking towards a familiar sound.

Hiccup heard it too. Well, this would be interesting. Hookfang and Barf and Belch had finally arrived onto the scene. Both were eyeing him suspiciously.

Beryl pawed at Hiccup. "You want to tell them, or should I?"

Hiccup answered that by action. "Hookfang. Barf and Belch. Have good lives, and protect your charges. They need it, in your cases." He smirked as both dragons nodded absently, clearly confused.

Hiccup changed back. Without looking at anyone else, human or dragon, he got into the saddle. Beryl took off without another word, lifting them out of the village, off of Berk. Away from Berk, probably for a very long time. Berk was no longer safe, no longer home. Nowhere was.

O-O-O-O-O

Beryl set them down on a small sea stack. It had clearly been chosen as a discrete resting place, situated as it was in a very familiar maze of sea stacks, the place they had almost died on that first flight, what felt like so recently and yet also so long ago. Hiccup slid out of the saddle dully, his mind finally forcing him to deal with what he knew for fact. Stoick was gone. He had gone the way of Stormfly. Of Flint, Ember himself. Dead, by Vithvarandi's hands or claws or teeth. How had she killed him? A sneak attack, more than likely. Some troubled Viking, requesting the chief's help? or had it been a dragon, one he had conditioned himself not to be alert around because they were friendly now? Either way hurt because both ended the same.

"Hiccup?" Beryl chuffed, turning to look at Hiccup. "Are you..." He trailed off, the answer clear.

Instead of asking anything more, Beryl carefully pulled Hiccup in between his front paws, sitting down as he did. Hiccup was forced to sit too, his head under the Night Fury's chin, in an ironic reversal of how he himself had comforted Beryl earlier that night.

The irony wasn't lost on Beryl. "My turn," he rumbled. "Don't hold it in. It doesn't help to do that."

Hiccup knew his friend spoke from experience. But fully thinking about it was too much. He couldn't do it. "Does it help not to?"

"Yes. And it helps to have someone with you." Beryl inhaled, digging up old memories, for Hiccup's sake. "Spark and I cried for weeks afterward, every night. It isn't something you just move past. But until you let it out, there's no healing." That he knew.

Hiccup laughed, a sound sad and low. "One more thing we have in common. No living parents. Thor, even the same person killed our fathers." That did it.

Beryl purred comfortingly, trying to soothe Hiccup as the boy mourned his father. The last new similarity between them was far too morbid to say out loud. But he definitely noticed it.

They had both killed the other's father, in fighting Vithvarandi. He was sure that fact would torment them both in nightmares for years to come. Seeing one's best friend kill one's father in real life was perfect nightmare fodder.

For now, it didn't matter. What mattered was being there for Hiccup. He would always be there, and he knew Hiccup would return the favor without question.

O-O-O-O-O

The next morning dawned cloudy and dreary. It didn't help Hiccup as he tried to pull his mood out of a looming depression. The world consisted of various shades of grey and blue, the sky, sea stacks, and the ocean. Nothing else in sight.

"Where are we going?" Beryl was looking contemplatively out to sea.

"Nowhere in particular. Away from humans, away from dragons. Just away, as far as we can get."

They set out, heading in no particular direction. The archipelago was fairly dense around Berk, so there was no danger of having nowhere to land. Hiccup figured they'd get their bearings later. For now, he just wanted to lose himself in operating the tailfin.

O-O-O-O-O

Astrid stared into the rising sun. She was sitting on a ledge facing the East, looking out across the village. Part of her still didn't believe what had happened. Stormfly dead. The chief, dead. Hiccup and Toothless, gone. For good, from what she could tell. A deadly brawl between some witch, Toothless, and Hiccup of all people.

The part about that which was most disturbing was not that Hiccup could use magic. Not that he fought like a wild animal while in dragon form, cutting, biting, and ripping in fatal ways, just like Toothless. She had never truly seen that side of Toothless either, until last night.

No, what disturbed her most of all was one moment in particular. A still frame, a picture she would never forget. Hiccup, a long knife outstretched in front of him, stabbing a Terrible Terror through the chest. The blank look of rage on his face. The fact that there was no hesitation. That the Terror's body disintegrated, and that Hiccup had clearly been expecting that, shifting back into dragon form to engage the witch in her newest body.

Hiccup had changed these last few weeks. Become subtler, less unsure of himself. More dangerous, clearly. And something else, something she only now recognized. He had felt older. Whenever she looked into his eyes, the weight of time far beyond his experience had disturbed her.

But if she was being entirely honest with herself, that wasn't an excuse. Oh, she'd like to be able to tell herself that her entirely cold and arrogant attitude towards him was because of the clearly unnatural changes, even if she hadn't seen them for what they were.

Yes, that would be nice. A comforting fiction. The truth was much less simple.

How had it started? Maybe at some point over the winter, as she reluctantly took on the task of keeping the village in one piece, of figuring out how to live with the creatures they'd killed for hundreds of years. She'd had to defend her goals, motives, and authority from every little snipe made by Mildew's sympathisers, and in the beginning many of the otherwise neutral villagers who had made pointed comments, insinuated that she was not good enough, not smart enough. That Hiccup would be better suited for her job, that she was a substitute.

It had been difficult, frustrating, but successful. No one save for the most obnoxious haters of dragons questioned her by Spring.

Then Hiccup had woken up. She'd been happy for him, kissed him. The taunts of some of the more cynical villagers later on had been less light-hearted. She'd ignored them, but their words had planted doubts. Hiccup is back, they said, so of course she was getting into his good graces, to keep her position. Because she so obviously was inferior to the one who had started it all.

So she'd kept her distance, despite herself. Focused inward, continued her life as if he hadn't recovered, interacting only when necessary. But most importantly, she'd watched him.

It had become apparent, after he returned from his little trip, that he wasn't satisfied. What she'd wrought was, just as the doubters had said, flawed. Not good enough.

He never truly said it, but the jabs at her authority and casual flaunting of her legitimately earned and deserved position had spoke volumes. Or so she had thought.

Looking back, it was clear that he'd never really blamed her for whatever imperfections he saw, never meant to make her feel worthless and _pointless._

But she'd felt it all the same. For someone who'd felt some brief stirring of affection for him, cooled over the Winter months, but not gone, it had hurt, broken something that could never truly be fixed. So she'd hit back, telling herself that he was defying the chief by defying her position, that he wanted to shake things up over and over again, to destroy what she had built just because he wanted too.

Which he did. That, she saw now, was how he worked. Never truly satisfied with the easy, good enough answers. Willing to destroy to fix. She needed to learn that lesson now, as chief.

No, she had not been in the right, though he hadn't either. They were both flawed, normal people in that regard. She'd just have to do better, and try to move forward.

Her musings turned back to the more practical side of the night's events. The oddness Hiccup had displayed of late had puzzled her. Now it made sense. She attributed everything strange of the last few weeks to whatever allowed Hiccup to do the impossible. The similarities between him and the witch were unnerving. It would have been very awkward to question him about it though. Especially given the entire village was scared stiff of magic.

It was likely for the best that they had left. She didn't like to think about what might have happened if they didn't. Though, being chief herself was not what she had wanted. Leadership was something she kept taking because no one else could do it. And once it was hers, she kept it through competence and skill, no matter the assignment.

This felt out of her league. To be fair, it had probably been beyond Hiccup's capabilities too. What now?

Whatever it was, she'd have to figure it out as she went. Improvising, learning on the job. Learning from Gobber, who had been Stoick's right-hook man. Would be _her_ right-hook man, now.

This was not how she had seen her life going. To be honest, she hadn't really looked to the future. But her future had always seemed to include Stormfly, ever since that fight against the Red Death. Her only companion that she could trust and rely upon completely, the only one who never questioned, who always listened.

Gone.

She might blame Hiccup for that, but it so clearly wasn't his doing. His own father had been another victim. He probably blamed himself regardless though.

No, she had no one to blame but an apparently unkillable witch who was gone, hopefully never to return.

If Astrid closed her eyes, the world almost felt as it should be. She could almost hear Stormfly standing nearby, quietly waiting. The sounds of the village, Stoick somewhere in the distance, his deep voice echoing like a distant thunderstorm. Hiccup and Toothless, on the other hand, left no imprint on the sounds of Berk. The two had never really been comfortable in the village, before or after the Red Death. A quiet dragon and his equally quiet...

Not right. She had been about to say owner. But Fishlegs had been working nonstop ever since the moment Hiccup and Toothless disappeared, dead set on learning how dragons spoke as quickly as possible. She had dismissed him as overzealous... but he had made progress already. By his measurements, anyway. She personally thought learning the meaning of one sound wasn't that impressive. Especially when that sound apparently meant 'no.'

Still, it proved Hiccup right. Again. Stormfly had not been an obedient pet, but a partner. Not that she had treated her dragon badly. But it hurt, to be shown that she had been so oblivious.

It was a helpful reminder that she was not flawless. She'd need that. Humility as well as determination and courage. She'd power through regardless. That was what Vikings did. Berk would continue. It always had.

She rose, to go about getting official support for her ascension to the position of chief. It was a pointless formality. The only challenger would be Spitelout, who because of certain rules as the brother of the late chief was ineligible himself for the position. Spitelout did not know Snotlout was planning on publicly turning the position down. She had been surprised when Snotlout told her that a few hours ago. But he had seemed sincere. So it was a foregone conclusion.

Time to begin a new chapter in Berk's history. No one knew how it would unfold, but she knew they'd be there to see it. Unlike Hiccup, who was gone. He had cut himself loose from Berk, taking his only companion into the world, pursued by danger.

She'd make sure that he wasn't forgotten. The boy who did the impossible, then the unthinkable, and then the unnatural. The one who broke every single mold and tradition he came across, who changed the world to fit what he wanted.

It felt like writing a eulogy, what she was thinking. Which was appropriate. As far as Berk knew, Hiccup was gone for good. As good as dead, to them. They would mourn him along with Stoick, Stormfly, and all of that witch's other victims.

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 **Well, now we finally see Astrid's side, though only in retrospect, and tinted by her perception of things. I hope her actions make sense now. She made mistakes, Hiccup made mistakes, but in the end she's learning from them, and though what might have been is not retrievable, the mistakes will at the very least not be repeated.**

 **I hope Astrid fans can be happy with that. To be brutally honest, if I had left her and Hiccup together, she would not have survived Vithvarandi's stay on Berk. It is only because Hiccup showed no visible affection to Astrid in the present that the 'witch', to put it in Berkian terms, didn't pull out all the stops and kill her when she fought back well against Stormfly's form. Vithvarandi no longer saw Astrid as the ultimate goal, and was unwilling to trade one normal form for another, especially when every moment of conflict ran a risk of being stumbled across, discovered, possibly alerting Hiccup through hearsay.**

 **In other news, this story is far from over, but I am looking to the future. The sequel, which does not have a finalized name as of yet, has gained more than ten chapters- in less than nine days. Over 50,000 words so far… and it's only a third done. That would make it about half again as long as this story. It was and continues to be very difficult, technically speaking, and very, very dark, but I am making steady progress. At this rate, we will be able to continue straight from this story's epilogue to the sequel's prologue with no break in posting schedule. So while this story is about half over, there is much more to come. I would say more (having just come from said nine days, in which the sequel took up the majority of my writing time), but spoilers abound, and I'd rather not, as even the general premise will spoil how this story develops.**


	13. Growth

The days passed in a blur of consistent randomness. Land gave way to sea which gave way to land, the terrain beneath them varying immensely, and yet still repeating. Mountains, forests, coves. Trees, clearings, rocks. All arranged in a unique pattern every time, and not all present at once, but the terrain was only unique in arrangement, not composition. The monotony of repetition set in.

It helped that they were adrift, truly heading nowhere in particular except away. Beryl began avoiding any sign of intelligent life, and held to no set course, going where the wind took him. It was a journey truly left up to fate.

Hiccup didn't mind that. It let him leave the past behind, get some distance from the pain. He barely kept track of where they were in relation to Berk, and even that would fail eventually. What point were reference locations when they wanted to be lost? Lost in the eyes of Vithvarandi, lost in their own eyes. The only things they couldn't run from were what they brought with them. Memory. Of Stoick, mainly.

In a perfect example of irony, it became clear over the first few days that Ember's memories were slowly ceasing to bother him. Hiccup had, at some undefined point, become comfortable with his dual lives, that of past dragon and present human. He grieved for Flint still, but that had faded to a familiar ache, similar to the one he had already harbored for his barely-remembered mother, gone in his youth. Such pain was almost comforting, receding into melancholy and fond memories, in the case of Flint. He had no clear memories to draw on of Valka. That was another thing he envied dragons. Their memory in the early years did not seem to fade if Ember was any indication. He wished he could remember his own mother's face.

His human mother. But she was not the only mother he remembered now. He could clearly remember Herb's soft but resilient eyes, a contrast to Thorn's gentler and more expressive gaze. And in a way unique to dragons, he distinctly remembered their sounds, the deep rumbling of Herb and the subtly different sound of Thorn, so distinct he had been able to differentiate between them by sound alone.

He did not know what had become of Thorn and Herb. Hopefully, they were still out there somewhere, living happily, maybe with more children by now. If his human side had no living parents, maybe his dragon side did.

There was still a distinct longing to find them, to search the world over. That feeling had merged with his urge to find Spark. But he could act on neither of them, because there was no better way to search than what they were doing now, wandering randomly. Unlikely to ever happen across what he sought.

Then there was the consideration of what he'd do if they did find any of the ones he felt he should be seeking out. He was not truly Ember… though he felt like him, sometimes, and remembered his life...

That was where Hiccup's thoughts were when they set down for the fifth night of their wanders. After eating a dragon-cooked fish for dinner, Hiccup brought it up.

Beryl listened carefully, his eyes betraying no emotion other than attentiveness. He sighed once Hiccup was done. "I do see it."

"See what?" Hiccup didn't understand.

"You are not yourself now." Beryl didn't sound like that was a bad thing. "I've been thinking about it. What makes a person unique?"

"This is going a bit off-topic, don't you think?" Hiccup smiled.

"No. I'm making a point." Beryl poked Hiccup with a claw. "So, what makes a person who they are? Really?"

"What they look like, for starters." Hiccup glanced down at his prosthetic leg.

"Nope." Beryl shook his head. "If my scales turned pink tomorrow for no reason, am I still Beryl? I'd say so."

"That's an amazing mental image." Hiccup was laughing now. "The great pink Night Fury, terror of the night!"

Beryl snorted. "Bad example."

"Amazing example." Hiccup by degrees regained control of himself. "But continue." He was interested in hearing what Beryl was trying to lead him to.

"So, what we look like doesn't determine who we are. What does?"

"Well, personality? That seems pretty important. The only other piece is experience." Hiccup shook his head. "So one or both of those."

"I think, from what I'm seeing..." Beryl's voice dropped, his body betraying caution. "They are connected."

"How so?"

"I can remember stories told by other dragons." Beryl closed his eyes, recalling the specifics. "Cautionary tales, told to newly mated pairs. That speaking around the egg was important, so important. Horror stories of negligent Sires and Dams who did not speak around it, or spoke only in frustration and anger."

Now Hiccup was really interested. Neither side of him had ever heard these stories. Talking to the egg, making sure it knew their voices, their support, was something he had simply taken for granted as a part of raising it.

Beryl continued quietly. "In those cases, the hatchling was sullen, withdrawn, fearful. Not bad, and many grew into perfectly normal dragons, but they were all slow to trust, inclined to anger. Their personalities were darker. That got me thinking. If experience, even in the egg, can affect personality, who's to say it doesn't determine personality entirely? Maybe we are shaped by our experiences."

"It's an interesting idea." Hiccup couldn't really argue with that. "So what brought it up?"

"Hear me out." Beryl had resumed his cautious tone, as if afraid of how Hiccup might take what he had to say. "Experience shapes personality, the only thing that makes a person unique. Physical form doesn't matter, and memory is the storing of experience. So, in a way, a person is their memories. Those define their personality, how they make decisions, everything."

Here Beryl shifted, laying a paw across Hiccup's lap, looking him in the eye. "I believe that now because I have watched you this whole time. Having my Sire's memories... it has changed you, in ways you don't seem to realize. Not in bad ways, or even entirely turning you into him. You are still Hiccup... partially. But I can see habits, mannerisms of Ember too. We are shaped by memory. And his is yours now too."

Hiccup jerked away, his mind filled with doubt. "What are you saying? That I'm not me anymore? I'm turning into him?"

Beryl shook his head. "No, not turning into him. I am saying that if his memories are him, and yours are you, then the two of you have... merged, from what I can tell. Neither completely Hiccup or Ember, but some new being with traits from both. You are both. It is quite clear, to me at least, as someone who knew both separately."

"There's a problem with that." Hiccup desperately brought up the last remaining objection he had to Beryl's theory. "We have souls, don't we? There is something that goes on to Valhalla or Helheim when we die, I thought. So that also is a part of a person. What happened... to Ember's soul?"

"If that is true..." Beryl's voice suggested he truly wasn't sure. "Then I'd say his soul is also a part of his memories. You carry it with you until his memories are truly gone."

That reassured Hiccup somewhat, though he wasn't sure why. "So I am him, in every way that matters. And also myself, or some blend, according to you." It felt true and explained how Ember's memories had merged with him, changing him.

"Yes." Beryl nodded. "I think so. It... helps. To know he's still here, in a way."

Hiccup grinned despite the solemn mood. "So am I your friend, or your Sire?"

"Somehow, both. I will treat you as a friend though because it feels right." Beryl chuffed. "Friends?"

"Always." Hiccup was struck with a terribly depressing thought. "So if memories are connected to the soul, Vithvarandi is holding the ones she's taken from wherever souls end up going. Keeping them here, away from where they belong."

"Yes. And the only way to free them..." Beryl growled. "Is to kill her. Or maybe the body the memories are attached to. I don't know how that works."

"Neither do I. Vithvarandi can't possibly remember every single person she's killed, not like this." Hiccup was working off of logic. "Dozens of lives, personalities, all merged together. It would drive a person crazy." Vithvarandi definitely wasn't crazy, just completely lacking empathy.

"Didn't she say something about the first body being special?" Beryl pulled Hiccup closer with his tail, the sun now entirely set. "Maybe it is only like this the first time."

"Maybe." Hiccup realized that he was capable of testing that theory. He had been ignoring it, but Ember's form was not the only one he had acquired from Vithvarandi now. That Terror, and Stormfly. Both were also now options, though they were in the background of his mind, waiting to be acknowledged.

Was he holding their souls here too? It would make sense if everything else was true. The thought sickened him. But there was no way he could think of to fix that. Someday he'd figure it out. For now, those bodies and possibly memories were not his, and he had no right or need to access them. They could stay there, untouched.

O-O-O-O-O

The next morning Hiccup was in a far better mood than he had been stuck in the last few days. Nothing had really changed, but he felt a little bit more at peace. With himself, if nothing else. Beryl's bout of philosophy had been quite helpful. Knowing his friend could still see both sides of him was also reassuring. As long as he didn't lose anything, he could accept it.

"Wake up." Silence. Then, a quiet growl when Hiccup still didn't respond.

Being in a good mood didn't mean Hiccup wanted to get up with the sun, as was Beryl's habit. He kept his eyes closed, and faked still being asleep, in the hopes that Beryl would give up.

"I can always get some water and spit it on you." Beryl sounded entirely serious. "I need you to help me with something anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow."

Hiccup sat up. "Deal. What do you need help with?"

"Look at my tailfins. Is everything growing right?" Beryl pulled his tail over. "It hurts now, not like before. Even not wearing the false fin all night hasn't helped this time."

Hiccup pulled the tail into his lap, carefully comparing the whole and growing fins. The growing side had increased in size, faster than he had been expecting. Not fast by any means, but he hadn't been expecting this moment for a while yet.

Beryl had brought it to his attention just in time. Hiccup winced, carefully pushing the slender growths surrounded by the new membrane extending from the tail, reaching towards where they would be once fully grown. "Does this hurt?"

"A little."

"They're getting too big for the prosthetic. It's starting to bend them out of place as they grow." Before, he had modified the prosthetic to accommodate the growths, and even that had been difficult to do without making the prosthetic dangerously loose. Such modifications weren't an option now, for several reasons. Even if he had a smithy to work in, there was a limit to how much the false fin could accommodate something growing to replace it. This was going to happen at some point.

"So what do we do about it?"

Hiccup frowned. It would be risky. Who knew if they had slipped away from Vithvarandi, or if she had some way to find them. But it had to be done. "We need to find a safe place. You won't be able to wear the prosthetic by the end of the week without damaging the new fin. Until it grows enough for you to fly with it, we'll be stuck on the ground."

Beryl flinched. "That could be months!" He whimpered. "Grounded for months. With a crazy lady after us."

Hiccup gently stroked the growing membrane. "It's a risk we need to take. This is important. Besides, the prosthetic would break eventually. It's not as good as a real fin."

"It was good though." Beryl nosed at the metal and leather contraption. "You did the impossible with it."

"Don't tell me you'll be sad to get into the air on your own power." Hiccup shook his head. "I'll be glad to see the prosthetic go. It was always meant to make up for something that it could never live up to. It served its purpose."

They set out, now flying with a purpose, and a deadline. To locate the safest and most secluded place for Beryl to regain his flight.

O-O-O-O-O

Two days later, Hiccup forced Beryl to land. "We're done looking." He had felt Beryl's shudders of pain the last few hours. The prosthetic was slowly crushing those fragile growths, and Hiccup would never be able to live with himself if his work ruined Beryl's tailfin _again_. They were not going any further with the prosthetic. Beryl didn't protest, setting down quickly.

Once they were on the ground, Hiccup quickly removed the offending contraption, and after a moment of contemplation the entire saddle.

"I can keep the saddle." Beryl was watching, his pained tail waving in the air as he stretched the bruised portion. "You'll still need it when we leave."

"Maybe." Or, he could fly alongside Beryl. "We won't get rid of it." Yet.

Now that it wasn't strictly necessary, Hiccup was beginning to dislike the saddle. Despite the original purpose it had served, it was a symbol of subservience. It implied the wearer was a beast of burden. Sure, it was well built and designed to be comfortable for the wearer, but the principle was not changed by that.

He'd be glad to see it go along with the prosthetic. Like a very old bandage, finally coming off now that the wound had healed. The last evidence of that choice he had made, not so long ago. No matter how loved and well-crafted the bandage was, it was destined to be cast aside in favor of that which it healed.

Hiccup picked the saddle and prosthetic up anyway. "Let's find somewhere good to set up camp."

They had set down in the midst of a dense forest, the sun coming through only in scattered patches. The last day had been a journey over land, the sea left hours behind them, and nowhere in sight. The forest, from what he had seen, stretched for miles in every direction, unbroken and indistinct. There were no dragons or people around as far as he could tell.

It was perfect. An indistinguishable patch of forest just like a thousand others. No one to see them, no one for Vithvarandi to impersonate if she did find them.

The other side of that aspect became apparent after an hour of walking. Beryl stopped abruptly, snorting in annoyance. "The entire forest is the same. No caves, no mountains, no landmarks whatsoever. I'm lost." His voice betrayed how frustrating that was. "I can't even see the sun!"

Hiccup was rethinking their plan. "Yeah, it would be really hard to find anything in here. But do we have to stay in one place?"

"What are you thinking?" Beryl began pawing at an immensely thick and gnarled tree, looking up its length.

"We can just wander around in here, following prey." It was obvious they'd be relying on hunting for food. No sea meant no fish. "We would just lose any place we settled down at. Navigation in here is really hard to keep straight. That way we don't have to bother."

"So we just follow the food, and sleep wherever we end up every night?" Beryl began purring. "I like it. Better than sitting somewhere all day, waiting for my fin to grow." Then he crouched. "Now, to solve my other problem."

Hiccup was startled to see Beryl abruptly dart up the large tree, claws digging into the bark. In seconds Beryl was beyond the tree cover, at the top of the exceptionally tall and thick pine.

"This is better!" Beryl spent a few minutes staring out at the forest. "Yeah, this place has no landmarks from the air either."

After a few minutes, Hiccup was ready to move on. A few more, and he called up to Beryl. "Should we go?" They needed food sooner or later.

Beryl squirmed, looking down at Hiccup in... was that embarrassment? "I... can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I would use my wings to cushion my fall, but this place is too thick. I don't have room to spread them. And I can't climb down. I'm stuck."

Hiccup winced. An awkward fall without cushioning of some sort from that height would really hurt. Cushioning... "I'll catch you, or at least break your fall."

Beryl burst out laughing. Then after a moment he stopped, understanding. A brief time passed in which only a few distant birds could be heard. "Okay."

Hiccup supposed that Beryl felt it would be hypocritical to say Hiccup couldn't use Ember's body after convincing him he actually was Ember. He felt the same. With no reluctance whatsoever he triggered the change.

A bit of hesitation might have given him time to remember a somewhat important fact. He groaned as the transformation completed, suddenly near-collapse thanks to fatigue and various moderately serious wounds. Bodies did not heal when he wasn't using them, or recover energy. This was how he had felt immediately after fighting Vithvarandi in the village. Beryl's wounds had healed in a few days, except for the worst, which were still healing. His were still fresh.

He hid his reaction to the transformation, positioning himself under Beryl. "Ready!"

Beryl let go and dropped, landing squarely on Hiccup's back. Hiccup buckled, collapsing, his head slamming into the grass. He hadn't broken any bones... but the impact was too much.

Beryl rolled off, laughing. That is, until he took a good look at Hiccup. "You're still injured!"

Hiccup groaned. "And tired. I never rested in this body." He considered changing back, but that wouldn't solve the problem. "Can we stay here a while?"

"Sure." Beryl eyed him. "Are you going to rest?"

"I should. Not a good idea for either of my bodies to be exhausted and injured. Vithvarandi could find us. As much as I am sure you could take her yourself, I'd rather not have to assist in my human form."

"Then rest." Beryl shook his tail ruefully. "We have nothing but time."

O-O-O-O-O

Wandering the seemingly endless forest was a surprisingly pleasant way to spend time. They walked wherever the path of least resistance was, letting the forest itself guide them. Hiccup stayed in Ember's form increasingly often as the days passed. Beryl didn't object. It was clear to both of them that the body with more stamina, strength, and agility was more suited to their current lifestyle.

Hiccup became re-accustomed to life as a dragon. It was easy, given he had sixty years of experience to draw from. He didn't feel the lack of opposable thumbs, of human speech. Of missing a leg.

Now that he was given the choice, he was realizing that he preferred life as Ember. As a Night Fury.

Hunting was a great example. Before, when Beryl had taught him to hunt, he had disliked it despite understanding the necessity. It had been a difficult exercise of necessity. He still didn't like the killing part of the occupation, but Ember's love of the chase was something he embraced. It turned a chore into entertainment.

Hiccup and Beryl were hunting at the moment, stalking through the endless forest, following the scent trail of what seemed to be a large buck. Scent, scrapes on the trees, prints in the soft dirt. All told a story, a story the animal didn't know enough to conceal. He padded along, taking the lead through habit. Beryl through habit followed behind, alert and silent in motion.

These activities brought peace to his mind in a way nothing else could. A piece of normality not out of place in either of his lives. Hunting with Beryl was something both parts of him had done, had enjoyed at least in part. There was no longer any confusion or discomfort when one side of him conflicted with the other, but things both agreed upon were still disproportionately powerful, whether positive or negative. When both sides of him agreed, nothing got in his way.

A short leap over a patch of mud, noting the prints in it as it was passed over. They were moving faster now, trotting through the woods. Their quarry was nearby. Two dark shadows flitting through the erratic patches of sunlight like wraiths, silent and deadly. This was a scene no human ever saw because unless one was the target, they'd never get a chance, and if one was the target... they'd never notice until it was too late.

In these moments Hiccup knew why humans always feared dragons on first sight. Dragons were natural predators. To see one was to be reminded that there was something out there that was above humans in the natural order. It was also why humans hunted and killed dragons more than any other predator. They felt threatened and moved to eliminate the threat.

He wasn't sure who would prevail in the endless struggle. Humans or dragons, creation versus destruction.

That was the other thing. Dragons struggled to create and easily destroyed. Destruction came easier. Humans were the other way around. Clever hands and brains, but relatively weak hides and muscles. Easier to create than destroy. Two sides of nature, creation and destruction. Not to say that dragons did not create, or humans destroy. Simply what they were inclined to by design. Choice was still important.

The sound of sticks cracking ahead snapped Hiccup's attention back to the hunt. He and Beryl stopped, using their hearing to locate the animal. It was apparently on the other side of a tree a few dozen feet ahead, eating the grass around the base of a small hill. As they watched it moved into view, a large buck with fairly impressive antlers.

Those antlers weren't going to save it. This was the part Hiccup didn't really enjoy, but they needed food. He let Beryl take the lead, assisting his friend in tearing the hide off once the animal was dead. There was no point in saving the hide for later. There was nothing he needed to make, and no way to carry it.

Though, that did seem to be an odd side-effect of the switching of bodies. Whatever he was holding or had on him when he changed stayed with his body. It was how he had never changed back to find himself devoid of clothing. However, the more he had on him, the slower the blue flames carried the process. In that way, he had managed to hold onto the saddle and prosthetic, though they didn't need either. He wanted to give the pieces of equipment a proper sendoff, as pointlessly sentimental as that might be.

O-O-O-O-O

And so the days turned into weeks, and the weeks slowly into months. Beryl's tail grew slowly but steadily, pulling out to match the opposing fin more and more with every passing week. By the time the weather truly began to cool off, and Autumn was upon them, Beryl had become impatient.

"I wish I could speed it up." Beryl was gnawing toothlessly at his nearly-grown fin. "It's so close, but still not enough."

"Don't try and test that. I don't want to have to catch you a third time."

Beryl winced. "I really thought I could last time!" He whined in embarrassment.

"Well, now you know better." Catching Beryl hadn't been nearly as painful the second time around, but it was not a fun activity for Hiccup all the same. "We aren't in any real rush."

"You aren't. I haven't flown in months." Beryl said sullenly.

"And neither have I." It was true, Hiccup had very intentionally stuck to the ground. "Why do you think that is? I'm waiting with you. So I'm just as impatient."

"Oh." Clearly, Beryl hadn't made the connection. "Well then, I wish it would grow quicker even more now."

There was nothing Hiccup could say in response to that. He changed the subject, to get Beryl's mind off of the wait. "I think it's safe to say we've lost Vithvarandi for good." Months of not seeing another person, human or dragon, was a pretty good indication.

"Don't say that." Beryl quickly looked around, scanning the surrounding trees. "She found Berk. So she must have some way to track you."

That was... a good point. This was no different from that. Suddenly the overcast skies and dark forest felt threatening, no longer safe. But nothing had changed. The wind still wound through the trees, a few birds chirped in the distance. It was the same forest.

O-O-O-O-O

That feeling of darkness in the metaphorical sense grew every day. Hiccup didn't know what was causing it, or why he felt it at all, but the forest was no longer the safe, carefree place it had been for them the last few months. But they were still there. Flight would allow them to leave, and it had not yet been restored to Beryl. The feeling made him cautious, careful. It also made him more observant.

An unnaturally moving branch, quickly stilled. Was it the wind, some small squirrel? He knew that was what it had to be, but never saw the cause. Paranoia it might be, but such events seemed to occur far more frequently than he thought natural. The feeling of eyes on his back, when there was no one within sight. That of another presence in the woods.

Paranoia, or intuition?

He said nothing of his worries, his observations. Beryl would only be stressed by the idea that his growing tailfin was keeping them in possible danger, and was already on the alert for sneak attacks. It could all just be his imagination, sharpened to acting out by responsibility and the real danger Vithvarandi still presented, wherever she was.

Nothing of his paranoia, anyway. One night, as neither of them seemed inclined to sleep, he brought up something he'd never thought to be able to ask.

"Beryl. Before this whole thing with Vithvarandi, what made you so paranoid in the village?" He thought he understood pieces of it, but he wanted to hear what Beryl had to say.

"A lot of things." Beryl absently pawed at the dirt below his claws, cutting a line into the ground for each point he made. "Some of it was just that I didn't trust your people. Even Astrid and Stoick. They meant no harm, but... everyone was capable of it. I had to stop myself from threatening Astrid when she punched you, right after you woke up."

"Fair enough."

"Then there was that. You almost died. I never wanted to have to see that again, and danger was everywhere. Are you aware half of your daily routine involved sharp objects or molten metal?"

Hiccup laughed, his deep voice resonating through the trees. "It must have been a nightmare, watching me in the forge. Vikings don't really consider the danger of, well, anything."

"No, not at all. And I had to deal with all of the dragons around too." Beryl growled, carving a particularly deep line. "Some of them wanted to make you their charge because I was apparently not good enough in their eyes. I set most of those straight, but a few kept at it."

Hiccup recalled several times in which certain dragons had gotten quite friendly with him, even offering their necks or backs for him to ride. The biggest, most impressive dragons in the village for the most part, huge Nightmares and particularly striking Nadders. Always when Beryl wasn't around, though that was a rare occurrence. Now he was very glad he had never accepted such a ride. "How did you... deter them?"

"With intimidation. If not that, teeth and claws, outside the village. They were overconfident. You taught me to fight well." Beryl paused before continuing, seemingly realizing what he had said. "I never even got scratched. They gave up quickly."

"When did you do that, anyway? You never left my side, except for a few minutes every once in a while."

"Deep in the night, when few are awake. I didn't like leaving you unguarded even then, but it was necessary. Those idiots weren't backing down for anything less than a formal challenge, as is custom." Beryl looked down at the lines he had carved into the ground. Three lines, connecting at right angles, forming three sides of a square. He decisively drew the fourth side. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else I cared about."

"Neither can I." Hiccup admitted that freely. The list was as long for him as it was for Beryl, with some of the same names too.

A stick cracked out in the night. Both Furies spun, facing the sound. It was nothing, in all likelihood. They relaxed.

Hiccup chuckled. "Still paranoid, even now."

"Yes, we are." Beryl nudged him. "You as well as me. For good reason. But I look forward to someday in which it is no longer necessary."

"Agreed." How such a day would ever occur, Hiccup wasn't sure. The specter of Vithvarandi's very existence made it unlikely.

Hopefully, they'd be able to leave this forest soon. Before there was a real reason to fear every little thing.

If there wasn't already.


	14. Reignition

The morning after their short conversation dawned cold and wet. Autumn was truly upon them, the wind wild and the sky dominated by clouds both immense and dark, looming over the forest.

Hiccup hadn't slept at all that night. That unnamable feeling of dread had intensified, keeping him awake through vigilance. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that something was wrong. What, he didn't know, only suspected. But what else could it be?

The wind brought with it water, light rain falling almost sideways, dripping from tree to tree in the wind. Beryl stirred unhappily, groaning once he took stock of the situation.

"We won't find any good cover out here." It was fact, inescapable. The land was so uniform that there might not be more than a small hill for cover for hours in any direction. This miserable situation in which rain dripped irregularly upon their backs was irreparable.

"I know." Beryl lifted his tail, staring intently at the slightly mismatched fins. "So close."

"Yes. But not quite." Hiccup knew that the tailfin's proportions had to be very close, closer than it was currently, in all likelihood. Building working substitutes had given him a very good idea of what would and would not allow Beryl to fly. The current state probably didn't fall into the 'would' category quite yet, or at least not that well.

Hiccup took a moment just to take in how close to fully grown the new fin was. How perfect it was. No visible scars or marks, even from the prosthetic. It would be perfectly symmetrical, fully functioning. "I don't think you're quite ready to go yet."

"Which makes now the perfect time."

Twin plasma blasts obliterated two nearby trees, a shower of wooden slivers and burning bark setting several small fires, which flickered before dying to the light rain, as the now disconnected trees fell, landing slanted on other trees, held precariously. The forest fell into silence, the silence that so often precluded an explosion of violence. The tension simmered between the Furies and the speaker. A single spark could set it ablaze.

A nondescript female Viking stepped out from behind a tree near the two that Hiccup and Beryl utterly obliterated. She absently picked up a scorched shard, turning it over as if examining it before looking up. "That could have killed me."

There was no response. Something held both Hiccup and Beryl back this time, something intangible. There was no rage, only unease and disgust, buried under caution.

To an outsider, it would seem a very dangerous confrontation. For Vithvarandi. A single Viking facing two very agitated Night Furies, nowhere to hide in the forest that was the hunting grounds of those Furies. An unarmed human against two killing machines, facing them as if unaware of the danger.

But of the three, Vithvarandi was the least worried, it was clear from her posture, her voice. "You must know by now I mean you no harm, Hiccup." She emphasized the word 'you' while glancing at Beryl.

Hiccup snarled viciously at her, letting out all of his hate for her in a single heartfelt expression of aggression. "You harm me every time someone I love dies by your hands. You have harmed me more than I think you comprehend."

"Others are inconsequential. They are all doomed to the same fate eventually." Vithvarandi spoke neutrally, no emotion entering her voice. "I simply take the inevitable and use it to benefit someone, when it otherwise would have done no one any good."

"You steal life, memories, souls. Taking from others only to prolong yourself... to take from more people." Hiccup took a step forward, holding eye contact. "You are a leech on existence, something that exists only to take from others."

"If I am, so are you!" Vithvarandi glared at him for a moment. "We are the same now. Everyone will die eventually. We cannot hate each other. Because I am the only one you'll ever have that doesn't disappear, doesn't leave you alone."

"Wrong." Beryl stood beside Hiccup. "I will never abandon him."

"You will die. Everyone does but us." Vithvarandi dismissed him. "You cannot do anything for him but supply one of us with more time. If you truly cared about him, you'd let him kill you. Then at least he'd always have your memories, a way to be sure you ever existed. Enough time will dull any normal memory. He'll forget you, eventually. As if you never lived."

Beryl had nothing to say to that. He looked over at Hiccup as if seeking a denial of some sort. A promise of... what?

Hiccup didn't know what Beryl wanted to hear, but he knew what he would say. "Everyone dies. Beryl will never leave me because I will follow him to wherever we go afterward. Immortality is a curse, and I definitely will never kill another to prolong my life like that. I reject that aspect of this curse. I will die naturally, just like everyone else."

"You think that now. But when it comes down to it, the simple instinct to live will drive you to-"

"Sorry, don't have that one." Hiccup grinned, knowing well how unnerving a gesture it was on his draconic face. "A survival instinct, that is. Already proved that. Several times over, I'd say. What say you, Beryl?"

"Let's see... the first time we met, the second time we met, the third, our first flight, our first real flight, the arena with the Nightmare, diving into the sea to save me, fighting the Queen... being willing to die rather than kill me." Beryl purred. "Nope, no such thing for you. You've always risked your life for what you felt was right."

Vithvarandi was visibly surprised by that information. "You do not fear death?"

Hiccup shrugged his wings, answering simply. "I fear it. Everyone fears the unknown. But not enough to let it control me, make me do things to avoid it." His eyes narrowed. "Like you do. Have you no empathy whatsoever? What makes you more deserving of life than anyone else?"

Vithvarandi scowled. "We are more deserving because we can live forever. We are the only ones who can truly live. It is-"

"Not your right to take life from anyone." Hiccup cut her off, growling. "And you want me to be with you, acting like that. You tear people apart, cause mourning and loss every time you kill. All to extend a pointless life of bringing grief and suffering to others." What he was about to say felt like crossing some line, and he happily burned the last bridge. "I swear on my life and on the memories of everyone you've ever killed, I will end you." He meant it, and it showed in his voice.

Beryl growled with him. "As do I, for what it's worth."

Vithvarandi seemed shocked, her eyes widening. "You mean that?"

"With my entire heart. I will stop this cycle of pointless death. And when I'm done, I'll voluntarily give up every single form I have, save for my real bodies." Hiccup didn't mean to include both his own body and Ember's in that exception, but it felt right. "I will willingly limit my lifespan to match my best friend, and happily die of old age or anything else. You disgust me, and I will never be like you."

Vithvarandi was crying now, real tears rolling down her face, becoming lost in the moisture brought about by the now steady rain. Her voice was... disappointed, and pained. "You were my last chance. The last canister failed, he died then and there. Without you, I am alone forever."

"Not for long." Beryl took a step forward, claws outstretched. "That is just one more death to avenge."

Hiccup hardened his heart against Vithvarandi's genuine distress. She only wept for herself, and self-pity would not redeem her, though it did make it hard to see her as a monster in need of destruction. He recalled Stoick, Stormfly, Flint, and attacked without warning, a small fireball throwing Vithvarandi back.

She rose from the black ash, an expression of rage stretched across the face of a Gronckle. "You don't deserve the gift I gave you!"

"One." Hiccup took another step forward. "One victim avenged. How many more?" His voice was cold and threatening, distorted as plasma built up in the back of his throat for a more powerful blast.

Vithvarandi scowled at him, seemingly unconcerned, angered by his defiance more than afraid. "I can't let you kill me. Don't make me kill you."

" _Try_." Beryl launched himself at her, water streaming off of him as he moved.

"I will tear you apart, and kill him with your body!" Vithvarandi shouted at him, her voice cracking and shifting from one language to the other as she was engulfed in black flames, a jarring transition that highlighted the disturbing content of her shout.

It was unclear which of them she was threatening with which part. It was a horrific threat either way.

But when the flames cleared, she was gone. Mostly. There was a strange lack of water in the middle of one of the puddles a few feet away, a telling indication that she was still there as a Changewing, her invisible body displacing the water.

The irregularity disappeared, and the woods echoed with the sounds of the wind and rain. If the atmosphere had been foreboding before, it was positively menacing now. She hadn't left.

Hiccup spun, straining for any indication of where she had gone. This was not like the other times. She was fighting all out, and from what he could tell, far less likely to give up. That bridge he had burned, the line he had crossed? It had been the only thing keeping her from truly trying to kill him.

The trees shook in the growing wind, rain fell faster, cold and thick droplets streaming together to run in the depressions between his scales, a web of cold covering him. He strained to catch any sound besides the rain and wind, the creaking wood. To smell anything besides the forest. To see _anything_ that might reveal Vithvarandi. Before she could strike.

Acid splattered from his right, glancing off of Beryl's side, the acid not hitting directly enough to stick and do damage, glancing off of his black scales to sizzle in a puddle, a small plume of vapor rising from the water. Beryl pounced immediately in the direction the acid had come from but met nothing but air.

Waiting, again. Another ambush, this one more effective. Hiccup snarled and fired, ignoring the burning pain growing in his shoulder until it was clear Vithvarandi had faded away again. Then he dropped and slammed his shoulder into a nearby puddle, desperate to remove the acid eating into his skin beneath the scales. The burning mostly subsided, leaving behind a raw ache only partially soothed by the cold rain.

"We need to-"

"Run." Hiccup cut Beryl off, his voice low. "Or fly, if you can manage it. We have no way to target her in these woods. No way to even see her." That Changewing seemed to be Vithvarandi's go-to fighting form. Impossible to see directly, and with a very dangerous weapon just as an added bonus. She wasn't fighting fair.

Which was fine. He didn't plan on fighting fair either. Never had, really. Fighting fair was for the strong and stupid. He always used his mind, and that generally involved breaking the rules.

Beryl spread his wings but closed them abruptly. Just in time, as a large glob of acid arced through the air where they had been.

Hiccup shuddered even as he blasted blindly at where the acid had originated. One bad hit of acid to the wing membrane and the unlucky victim was definitely grounded, maybe for good. They needed... time. Time for Beryl to take off.

Hiccup closed his eyes, focusing on his other senses. Sight was pointless here anyway. Vithvarandi couldn't be seen. But her camouflaging was a visual thing. No sight meant equality.

Sound. Beryl treading in puddles, turning in circles, asking what he was doing.

"Quiet." Hiccup focused on the subtler sounds. Rain and wind could be tuned out. They were constant sounds that didn't change, only ebbed and flowed.

Sound. Hiccup dragged up a memory half-buried, even by Ember himself. Night Furies, with their excellent night vision, had never needed alternative ways of seeing in the dark. He had considered it a pointless skill, even saying so when Flint taught it to him, one of the few things she had known that he hadn't. Now he was glad she had taught him to do it. To send out a very specific sound, one that changed as it bounced off of obstacles and returned to him. One that could tell him where things were.

It had been so long that the first roar he let out was off, not the right tone or pitch. He tried again immediately, getting it the second time around.

Echoes, reflections. His roar returned to him, almost imperceptibly faint. Distorted by how long it had traveled before bouncing back.

The information took a moment to decipher. Beryl. Various trees. A shape in the distance. To his right. Another roar confirmed that she was still there.

He opened his eyes, carefully not looking anywhere in particular. "Beryl, fly."

Beryl shook his head, but opened his wings quickly, wing membrane exposed and vulnerable.

Hiccup spun and blasted Vithvarandi, his plasma blast burning through most of the acid on its way to her, a moderately powerful concussive bolt which knocked her back into a tree, eliciting a groan as the old and gnarled pine cracked from the impact. "Fly!"

Beryl leaped, flapping out of sight quickly, his powerful legs pushing him most of the way out of the trees on the original jump. He was out of sight in seconds.

Hiccup wanted to follow, but first, he had to make sure they got a head start. Vithvarandi was still reeling from the concussive blast. Another shot into the ground directly in front of her sprayed dirt and mud all over her camouflaged form, giving easy visibility.

He would have struck, but she might just have several Changewings anyway. The time this had bought them was more precious. He launched into the air. Not fleeing. Choosing the battlefield.

Despite the driving rain, unsteady winds, and pained acid burn, Hiccup grinned at the sight before him. Beryl was flying, albeit somewhat slower than normally, favoring the slightly underdeveloped tailfin. Flying. The wait was over. Just in time.

The two met in the air, heading towards nowhere in particular, flying as fast as Beryl could manage. Hiccup flipped over his friend and laughed as they fled.

"Good enough?" Hiccup tagged Beryl's back with a wingtip as he passed over.

"Enjoy your air superiority while you can!" Beryl growled playfully back. "When I'm fully healed, you'll be eating my dust!"

"We'll see!" Hiccup glanced back, noting that Vithvarandi hadn't gotten into the air yet. Or she was still a Changewing, following in disguise. Actually, did their camouflage work with nothing to camouflage themselves against? He wasn't sure. Not a good idea to assume it didn't though. So they weren't out of the woods yet, even if they were technically out of the woods.

O-O-O-O-O

There was no communication as they moved out past the massive forest and over a series of rolling plains, green hills dotted with the occasional tree. Both were concentrating on listening for the telltale sound of wings flapping that would signal an ambush. Hiccup watched the sky above them, and Beryl covered the air below. In this way they traveled for several hours, tense and ready to fight.

By the time they were forced to set down, the tension in the air had mostly lifted, though the storm had not lifted in the slightest.

Beryl gave in first, dropping to land in front of a large hill, squinting in the rain. "I can't go any further."

"Neither can I." Actually, Hiccup felt he could go for a couple more hours, but Beryl hadn't flown in months. It made sense his wing muscles would be a little underdeveloped after that long mostly unused. No need to bring that up.

"Doesn't look like we're getting any shelter." Beryl glanced around, taking in the rolling hills and solitary pines, completely useless for protection from the driving rain. "We're sitting ducks anyway."

"Nope." Hiccup purred softly, eyeing the hill they were standing at the base of. "I've done this before." It would be a bit gross and not exactly dry, but much better than sitting out in the open. He began digging into the soft hillside, powerful claws and front legs shifting dirt at an astonishing rate.

Beryl spluttered, shaking his head to dislodge a clump of grass and dirt. He joined Hiccup after a moment, widening and deepening the growing hole in the hillside.

After a few minutes, Hiccup stopped, tapping Beryl with his wing. "That's as far as we can go."

"Why? We haven't hit rock yet." Beryl backed up a bit.

"No, but I'd rather not be buried alive." Hiccup turned around in the depression, his wings sliding along the dirt roof. "It can collapse, and any further in might make such an event deadly. We rest here."

"We're still kind of sitting ducks." Beryl cast a glance behind them.

"Scoot forward." Hiccup backed up a bit, letting Beryl settle down in the back of the shallow depression. The hole was just deep enough for Hiccup to curl up with his back to Beryl, looking out into the descending gloom that heralded the end of a day of storms.

O-O-O-O-O

The night passed slowly. Hiccup kept watch through the dark hours, resisting sleep in order to test a theory he had developed. Which was why he was keeping watch in his human form. Night vision was pointless in the driving storm, as was that odd way of seeing by sound. His human eyes were just as likely to see Vithvarandi coming. Not at all likely, to be entirely honest.

He didn't wake Beryl or get any sleep of his own. That was the first part of his theory. One that had been lurking in the back of his mind since discovering that wounds didn't heal unless the wounded body was inhabited long enough to heal naturally.

When dawn broke, the sheet of clouds diffusing the light so that it was almost indistinguishable from night, Hiccup shifted back to his other body.

It was an astonishing change. His mind sped up, the lethargy of sleep deprivation vanishing, though not entirely. His draconic form had flown a full day's flight already... and gotten no rest. But it also hadn't stayed up all night.

He had been correct. When not in use, the bodies were entirely frozen in the state they had been left in. That included personal possessions, wounds, age, and apparently energy level. There was a trade-off to this particular case though. Both of his forms would be sleep-deprived by nightfall, and he could only rest one of them. Managing two bodies was going to be tricky.

How did Vithvarandi manage with so many bodies at her disposal? Probably by not using most of them. Just keeping them as insurance, or for when she needed a specific ability, like turning invisible.

It didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. He only had two bodies. Well, two he was willing to use. That was more than enough.

His mind slowly shifted to consider the future. If they did end Vithvarandi, as impossible as that goal seemed, what then? Berk was not really an option. They didn't have anywhere to go, or anything to do.

That was a problem for later. He poked Beryl with his snout, nudging the other dragon up.

Beryl groaned, his eyes slowly sliding open, glaring at Hiccup. "You watched all night." It was almost an accusation.

"Yes. But not in this form. I'll be fine for now." Hiccup left the hole, shaking the mud and dirt off of his back and wings. Beryl followed, growling as mud slid down his head from the back of his neck. Neither complained. It was a small price to pay for a safe night when being hunted.

O-O-O-O-O

They journeyed on, reaching the coast at about midday, the swath of yellow sand dividing the forest and boundless sea in front of them.

"Now what?" Beryl looked down the coast in both directions, circling over the beach below. "Endless forest and plains in both directions, or whatever might be that way." He motioned toward the ocean. "Or, there might be nothing out there."

Hiccup set down, pawing at the sand idly, staring out at the ocean. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, one he was familiar with. A sense of recognition. But he couldn't place it. He ignored it and focused on the issue at hand. Paw. Whatever.

"She'll follow. Doesn't matter where we go." His claws sunk into the sand as he padded towards the waterline, leaving footprints behind, stark and obvious against the smooth beach and rolling dunes. Obvious...

Hiccup grinned, turning to face Beryl. "So we stop running. Make our stand here." He nodded at his footprints. "No way for her to sneak up by land. No cover to protect her. The ocean at our backs, and clear skies." The storm was breaking up, so the skies would indeed be clear soon.

"I am tired of running." Beryl considered the proposition. "We end it here? What if she tries to leave?"

"Come on, you didn't think I was just planning on a fair fight, did you?" Hiccup grinned widely, purring with suppressed excitement and just a hint of dark malice. "Vithvarandi will come for us. We seem to have time to prepare. And I've got a few ideas..."

Hiccup elaborated quickly. Who knew how much time they had.

Beryl was purring smugly by the time his friend was done explaining. "We'll do it."

They both sprung into action, preparing the battlefield. The time for fleeing was over. Vithvarandi was coming, and they would be prepared when she arrived.


	15. Retribution

_**Author's Note:**_ **I must apologize for the lateness of this chapter. It may have been optimistic to think that I could get this out as usual with my sporadic access to wi-fi. I will try to do better with the next chapter, which** _ **should**_ **be out on Saturday, and by shortly after the following Saturday, access to wi-fi becomes much less problematic.**

 **On the bright side, this is a good chapter to have had delayed, given it ends on a cliffhanger and the next chapter is coming out at its normal time (hopefully).**

"I don't like sand." Beryl snorted in disgust.

Hiccup flicked a claw at Beryl, showering him in more of the stuff. "Why? It's useful."

"It's all coarse, and rough, and irritating. And it gets everywhere," Beryl retorted, flicking some back. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to do more than that.

"Well, get used to it. For now, we're stuck here." Hiccup eyed Beryl's tail. "I told you not to strain it."

"We're fine. I don't think she's going to follow us." Beryl stuck an intimidating pose. Well, intimidating to anyone who didn't notice that he was visibly drooping through exhaustion. "We showed her back in those woods."

"You may be right..." Hiccup cast a glance at the sea and sky behind him. "Will you be ready to go by nightfall?"

"I'd say... no." Beryl flexed his tailfins. "It hurts to move."

"Okay. I'll go grab some fish." Hiccup launched into the air, slowly winging his way out to sea.

Beryl sat on the beach, amidst several chest-high sand dunes, seemingly at ease. "I don't think she'll ever find us" he muttered aloud.

O-O-O-O-O

The sound of the waves masked the soft crunching of sand that heralded approaching footsteps. Vithvarandi glared at the insolent Night Fury she was creeping towards, fully aware she couldn't be seen as a Changewing. Quite useful bodies, Changewings. She'd never had to use them so often before. Most prey wasn't so alert and observant.

Alert by comparison, that is. The doomed Fury in front of her wasn't at all observant, even if in this case it would have been futile. He was sweeping at the sand idly with his tailfins now, creating a flowing pattern around him, smoothing the sand. An activity good solely for wasting time. He wasn't aware he had almost no time left to waste.

One more form for herself, and maybe some insight. She coveted that almost as much as a fresh Night Fury in the prime of youth. Information about her real concern. This dragon was insignificant, like every other mortal in the world.

A portion of her mind weakly objected, but it was quickly overridden. Mortals were inconsequential, they had to be. Nothing they did or said lasted, no promises could be kept, no relationships maintained. They all fell to death, all their actions and intentions rendered worthless. They were no better than the true animals and should be treated as such. Besides, it was for the greater good. She could use their imperfections to keep herself alive. Forever.

That was good. But it wasn't enough. Both sides of her agreed upon that, one of the few times in which they were truly in agreement. Both of them were knew all too well the feeling of loneliness, isolation. So her dominant side acted on that, ignoring the half-hearted pangs of discontent emanating from the other. She had gotten very good at ignoring that kind of thing.

Someone like her. Someone to spend eternity with, to banish the loneliness. It was all she wanted, and she'd get it, one way or another. Even if it involved deceiving the one she wanted even more than she already had.

Her plan was simple. Her future companion was busy, diving and firing into the sea, following a school of fish. She'd attack his companion, take his form, hide the ashes in the sand, and...

Here her ideas varied. One plan was to simply act as her companion's friend for a while, and hopefully ingratiate herself to the point that she could reveal her true self, without him objecting. Or she could start a fight, and either get her companion to kill the Fury or leave as the Fury, abandoning him and leaving him open to her approaching him in her true form. Or something in the Fury's memories would shine a light on how her companion thought, how he worked.

Really, there were plenty of possibilities, but they all hinged on this. Her killing her future companion's...

What was this other Night Fury to him? The two had been journeying together before any of this, and she knew from the memories of others taken from their village of the history between the two, from perspectives of both species. But friends, allies in battle alone didn't describe them. Best friends maybe.

She was sparing him pain later on, by killing his friend now. At least here the death would benefit her and possibly him in the long run, instead of a worthless death of accident or old age.

That was what most of her thought. The feeble objections raised by her other half were inconsequential and didn't factor into her decision-making process at all. That lone, reedy strand of memories that reeked of objection and discontent was annoying in the way a distant mosquito just close enough to hear was. Aggravating, but not actually doing anything.

The Fury was still unaware of her presence, but he had by coincidence moved away, looking out at the sea. She stepped forward, preparing to pounce. She would grab his head and cut his throat. Almost instant death, and hopefully a silent-

A flash of agony, and the familiar wrenching sensation of losing the body she inhabited. The odd sense of intangibility that lasted a split second before she resolidified in the body of a Timberjack. What-?

Before her eyes even opened she was again under attack, claws tearing into her large wings, shredding the sensitive membrane. The pain was excruciating, but her anger drowned it out. No point in hiding, in being silent. Her agonized and enraged roar echoed across the beach.

Her eyes focused on the Night Fury tearing into her massive wing. A single flex of her will and he was thrown back, her black flames repelling him like the insignificant insect he was. A painful insect, but still insignificant. Rage flooded her mind with energy, and drove out all thought, save for one immediate goal. The death of this animal that dared-

Another mass slammed into her, inexplicably knocking her back despite the protection of her flames. It _hurt_. Something was wrong.

When the flames receded she shook her head, dazed. Nothing could even hit her in that halfway state. The flames repelled any encroaching mass with unnatural force. So what had?

O-O-O-O-O

Hiccup spun and dropped the act the second he heard the sound of combat. It had been a risky plan, but the gamble paid off, Vithvarandi taking the faked injury and complacency as truth. He was rewarded with the sight of Beryl tearing into an invisible mass, one that flickered into sight a moment before disintegrating.

Invisible, yes, but it was pretty easy to see her footprints on the perfectly smoothed sand. That was the first of several surprises he and Beryl had prepared, and it had already proven deadly. Hopefully, that was her only Changewing body.

Ember flung himself at Vithvarandi the moment she began to shift forms, hoping his guess was correct. If it wasn't, this was going to be very painful. He triggered his own transformation moments before plowing into the black flaming mass.

Black flame battled blue, an unstoppable force against an unbreakable barrier. The forces negated each other, but as Hiccup had momentum, he felt less of the effect, his barrier far less disturbed by the impact. It hurt in a strange way, but not debilitatingly so.

He had a knife up and almost out of his hand by the time the flames receded, the sharp metal flying true. It hurt to see his own weapon buried to the hilt in the chest of a red Nadder, the way she staggered and bled. But this was necessary.

Besides, the only reason this felt so one-sided was that she hadn't gotten a chance to strike back yet. They would work to keep it that way.

Hiccup shifted back to his dragon form, pouncing on whatever form Vithvarandi was about to fall into, the Nadder collapsing. That turned out to be a Gronckle, who resisted his claws and teeth a bit better. Vithvarandi slammed her bulbous tail into Beryl's side, knocking him to the ground right in front of one of the chest-high sand dunes.

Beryl subtly winked at Hiccup as Vithvarandi leaped at him, aiming to slam her tail into his head.

Hiccup spat a fast plasma blast at Vithvarandi's descending form, pushing her just a bit off course, angled to land on the dune instead of Beryl. Beryl rolled out of the way.

A sickening tearing sound was heard when Vithvarandi landed, her dense body smashing the sand dune… and something else.

The body of the Gronckle collapsed, revealing a strange object that had been hidden beneath the pile of sand. All three of them stared for a moment at the grisly sight.

A twisted spike of partially clear glass, speckled with sand and colored by the carbon produced as a side product of a Fury's fire. A smoked spire of dark glass coated in blood, having just impaled Vithvarandi as she slammed down onto it.

Vithvarandi, now in the body of a heavily armored Viking, visibly paled as she made the connection, staring at the multitude of similar hills scattered across the area. Any or all of them could conceal similarly deadly spikes. The beach was a hidden deathtrap.

Hiccup grinned viciously, saying nothing. He and Beryl spread out, slowing circling Vithvarandi, who seemed to be considering her options. She held her hands out, brandishing the sword this body happened to be holding. "Clever." Her voice was dripping with anger, lips curled into a sneer.

"Story of my life." Hiccup considered the armored opponent in front of him... and Beryl, who Vithvarandi seemed to be ignoring. "Taking down more powerful enemies with my mind. Or a friend."

Beryl blasted Vithvarandi in the back, denting her armor and causing her to stagger forward. Hiccup slammed the armored helm with his tail, taking the brunt of the blow with the base of it as he spun.

The blow hadn't been intended to kill, but the sickening snap and subsequent pile of ash proved just how lethal it had been. One more body down.

Vithvarandi seemed even more uncertain as she backed up, now a lightly armored human with no weapons. For some reason she kept that form, not switching to one more capable of self-defense.

Beryl again got behind her, not attacking yet. This felt like a trick, like they were missing something.

Vithvarandi, seeing she wasn't being attacked, grinned. "No matter how much you think you want to kill me, you can't attack an unarmed-"

Hiccup cut her off, using his second-to-last shot at close range. The piles of black ash were dotting the ground now, like diseased sand staining the beach. Yellow sand, black ash, and red-stained sand all intermixed between the dunes.

Two Night Furies against any one human or dragon was just unfair. That was becoming clear. There was almost nothing Vithvarandi could do in a straight fight.

She was beginning to understand that. After losing yet another form, the black fires cleared to reveal... a hole in the ground, sand streaming down into it.

Hiccup groaned, recalling the little he knew about tunneling dragons. "Whispering Death." It didn't help that this species of dragon, he knew in retrospect, was the one Vithvarandi had used to kill him in his first life as Ember.

The ground shook slightly, informing them both that Vithvarandi wasn't running.

"Take to the air!" Hiccup's actions mirrored his words as he yelled, launching quickly. Last time Vithvarandi had attacked from below, tearing him apart with her rotating teeth before he could react. They needed distance.

Beryl leaped into the air, but he wasn't fast enough. The sand exploded outwards as Vithvarandi launched out from below, slightly off-target.

The cloud of sand Vithvarandi brought with her obscured Hiccup's vision, but he could clearly hear Beryl's yowl of pain and see the way his friend's wings faltered even as he pulled away from the worm-like dragon with no legs and a massive maw full of rotating teeth.

Without thought, Hiccup banked and dove, slamming into the spiked side of the Whispering Death, cutting himself as he shoved it away from Beryl. Worth the pain.

Beryl flew somewhat far from the scene of the battle, blood dripping from his left back paw. He was visibly psyching himself up to rejoin the battle despite what must be near-debilitating pain.

But for the moment, it was Hiccup against Vithvarandi in the body of a Whispering Death. This was far more even of a match than he would have liked, especially with only one, maybe two shots left. They circled each other in the air for a moment, Vithvarandi moving fluidly through the sky, her smaller wings and body shape making her deceptively agile.

Vithvarandi opened with a strange circular blast of red-hot fire, which Hiccup dove through, shooting his last blast directly into her open mouth. It didn't kill her, but the strangled roar of agony was proof it had hurt.

They clashed again and again, Hiccup slashing and Vithvarandi twisting, letting her spikes do the work, always looking for an opportunity to bring her shredding maw into play. For every gash Hiccup opened with his claws, he received a few from the unavoidable spikes all over the Whispering Death's body.

This was bad. Attrition was not a type of war Hiccup could win. Vithvarandi had who knew how many bodies to spare, and he did not. She would win if they continued exchanging wounds. He scanned the ground below and abruptly changed his strategy, diving down and grabbing onto Vithvarandi's small wings, using all four claws to clamp them down. Dropping both combatants out of the sky like a rock.

He held them like that until the last moment before impact, letting go and rolling off, hoping his aim was good. But as he completed his roll, he saw that it hadn't been good enough. The glass spike hidden beneath that dune was a bit off-center, and Vithvarandi had landed to the side, stunned but not injured, the spike a few feet away from her massive maw and beady eyes.

Before Vithvarandi could move a plasma blast shattered the glass spike, launching hundreds of razor-sharp fragments into Vithvarandi's head, killing the Whispering Death. Beryl had reentered the fight.

And so the fight continued, Vithvarandi becoming more and more desperate as Beryl and Hiccup methodically tore through her forms. The sand was thoroughly soaked with blood, the rough glass spires one by one uncovered and used by Hiccup or Beryl. The preparation had paid off. Vithvarandi was forced to avoid all sand dunes, while Hiccup and Beryl knew which were safe and which were death traps. Even if they weren't good as impaling spikes, Beryl had proved they could be lethal if shattered with a blast.

Vithvarandi became more and more desperate as her forms died, each loss shaking her resolve to fight. A wild look began to show in her diverse eyes, alike only in their desperation.

Hiccup was tired, but they didn't stop, couldn't stop. It would end here. He could see that Vithvarandi was defending herself more frantically with every lost form. That to him implied she was running out of morbidly stolen bodies. He and Beryl were entirely focused on ending her here and now.

Which might explain why he was surprised to feel an arrow pierce his side even as he clawed at Vithvarandi, who was in a human body wielding an ax. He staggered, shocked by the unexpected and sudden pain. The surprise in Vithvarandi's eyes echoed his own. Beryl froze mid-snarl, staring at the treeline.

Six Vikings emerged, dressed for hunting and armed with bows. One had his bow out, but the rest seemed far less ready to fight. Their eyes were wide, staring, mouths slightly open in awe... or fear.

Hiccup realized how intimidating this must look. Two unknown dragons attacking a Viking, the beach literally bathed in blood, far too much to have come from the three combatants present, also littered with strange fragments of glass. Of course, they'd attack the vicious dragons trying to kill one of their own.

Vithvarandi held a shaking hand out towards the Vikings, her voice quivering. "Help!" That shriek tore out of her throat, an embodiment of panic and exhaustion.

Hiccup winced as she darted towards the Vikings. He had no shots, and neither did Beryl. Vithvarandi was getting away, and leaving them with a far more dangerous fight, while exhausted.

All three combatants were surprised when the leading Viking drew his bow and pointed it at Vithvarandi's chest. She skidded to a stop.

The leading Viking spoke, his voice quivering with suppressed fear. "We saw. Not one step closer, demon." His men drew their bows, two aiming at Hiccup, two at Beryl, and one more at Vithvarandi. "I don't know what kind of unholy monstrosities you three are, but we aren't falling for this."

Hiccup eyed the arrow sticking out of his side. It had missed his vitals, though not by much. Just another painful wound, not serious enough to worry about. He managed to twist his head around and yank the arrowhead out, thankful it wasn't barbed. He returned his full attention to the archers. "Beryl, no sudden moves."

Beryl snorted, burying his still bleeding paw in the sand. "No need to tell me that."

Vithvarandi began slowly stepping to the side, away from both the Furies and the Vikings. "I have no quarrel with you."

Hiccup growled. She was getting away, slowly but steadily. Though not that far away. What was she trying to accomplish?

Vithvarandi pointed at the Furies. "They, however, are Night Furies." Her voice was scared, but there was a subtle lilt that to Hiccup implied she knew exactly what reaction that would produce.

The Vikings visibly paled, though Hiccup personally didn't know why Night Furies were more intimidating than a shapeshifter. Their leader spoke, his thoughts following a similar path. "They are dragons, simple beasts. You are something more, something worse." Without warning he fired, an arrow slamming into Vithvarandi's chest.

The leader frowned. "I don't take chances."

Beryl leaped into the air a split second before two arrows pounded into the sand where he had been standing. Hiccup did the same, having heard the implications in the man's words just before seeing the subtle signal he gave. Both winged out of range, circling above the beach of blood.

Vithvarandi hadn't died yet. She was gasping, the arrow lethal but not immediately so, for whatever reason. After a moment her breathing stopped, and the assembled Vikings let out a stream of curses as her body crumbled, a Terrible Terror appearing behind her. They scrambled to draw more arrows, but Vithvarandi darted away, flying straight out to sea.

Hiccup and Beryl chased after her, unwilling to let her escape. But she shifted midair, her new body one much faster. A particularly streamlined and muscled Nadder, who easily shot ahead, outpacing the injured and exhausted Furies. Beryl roared in frustration as she powered ahead, slowly fading into a dark speck on the horizon.

Hiccup groaned, his muscles all hurting from the fight, and the multitude of cuts he had suffered aching in the sea breeze. "She's running."

"We were close, I could feel it." Beryl faltered in his flight, before forcing himself back up. "She must be almost out of bodies."

Hiccup agreed, but clearly, she wasn't quite down yet. Though they had knocked the will to attack right out of her, by all appearances. She was fleeing. They would follow. The hunter had become the hunted. He was good at the hunt.

O-O-O-O-O

Following Vithvarandi quickly become nearly impossible. A speck in the distance if the weather was good was all the indication they had. A few days later and she was gone entirely. Hiccup had no ideas on how to track her. She had escaped them.

He was contemplating that as they flew, following the last direction she had been spotted flying in, before a cloudbank in the Northwest let her give them the slip entirely. There was no way to know where she had gone.

They passed a series of oddly shaped sea-stacks to the East, ones with almost spherical sections, looking precariously balanced. Hiccup blinked, staring at those sea stacks. He... knew them. Without explanation he turned, heading in a new direction.

"Where are you going?" Beryl squinted at the horizon. "She can't have gone this way!"

Hiccup didn't answer. His mind pulled him, memories suddenly becoming relevant. Half an hour's flight later, and that smudge on the horizon had grown distinct. An island. One he knew well.

Home.

Beryl at some point recognized it and ceased his intermittent questioning, flying silently. They circled the island, Hiccup taking in the familiar sights. After a while they set down, walking towards a very familiar place. A large hill near the center of the island, one he was sure still had a dirt cave dug into its side. So much time had passed, but it felt like he had never left. If he looked to the side he felt he'd see a younger version of Beryl, tumbling along, still not entirely coordinated. Flint would be around and Spark somewhere nearby. Night Fury footprints would surround the dirt cave, and the interior would smell like home. It was an illusion, thinking it would all be as it was so long ago, but a good one.

Which is why he stopped, staring down. Beryl stopped beside him, both of them looking at something that shouldn't exist.

Night Fury footprints, fully grown and fresh. Leading towards and away from the dirt cave.

Beryl's face went through an array of emotions, from surprise to shock, fading into anger and fear. Fear, despite what he said. "There's only one person who would be here."

Hiccup agreed. "Remember what we said?"

"I do." Beryl took a step back. "You'll-"

A thud cut him off, one that came from behind both of them. Hiccup turned slowly, knowing and looking forward to what he'd see.

A somewhat small yellow Night Fury, whose eyes were still a startling off-white. One who was a bit too lean to be healthy, with a strange drooping of scales under his eyes. Despite the oddities, it was clear. This was Spark.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Did anyone really think he wouldn't enter the story at some point? One does not set up a character without eventually using them. We'll see how all of this plays out…**

 **I should note that it is a physical impossibility for this to be Vithvarandi, unless she is capable of teleportation. She was last seen, only hours before, going in the opposite direction to this island, and Hiccup and Beryl have been between it and her since then. She did not have time to circle around, and Changewings cannot camoflage against the empty sky, so she could not sneak past them either. A Scauldron or water-dwelling dragon might have made it past their surveillance (and really, Vithvarandi should have thought of that at some point), but it would not be faster than a Night Fury in the air, meaning our protagonists would still beat her there.**

 **Basically, this is not Vithvarandi. It's not possible.**


	16. Reconciliation

_**Author's Note:**_ **A nice, less frantic chapter to balance things out. Don't worry everyone, things are coming to a head soon…**

 **You may also want to pay specific attention to small details, this chapter is a turning point of sorts.**

Spark's face was the picture of sorrow conflicting with hope. He only had eyes for Hiccup, not even seeming to see Beryl. The world seemed to stop for a moment, emphasizing the stillness of the moment. Three Night Furies standing on a forgotten island, staring at each other. No one moved in that moment.

Hiccup recalled that he was still Ember. Right here, in front of his hatchling, who had apparently been so hurt by his death. Parenting instincts took over, and he pushed whatever reasons Spark had for past actions aside. That could be dealt with later. Right now...

Hiccup stepped forward, resting his chin on Spark's scrawny shoulder. He sighed as Spark broke down, head bowed as his body was wracked by sobs. A glance over his shoulder at Beryl conveyed Hiccup's intent. First, they would console him. Past grievances could be addressed afterward.

Spark sobbed uncontrollably, now frantically pushing his head against Hiccup's chest, as if to be sure he was real. Spark might have been trying to say something, but nothing came across except the understandably strong mix of belated grief and shock he was experiencing. This lasted for some time, while Hiccup offered what reassurance he could silently, knowing Spark wasn't coherent enough to understand anything more complex than a comforting purr.

Beryl watched with a mixture of empathy, apprehension, and sorrow. After a few minutes, he put a wing over Spark, easily reaching over his smaller brother.

That was something odd. Spark had not grown nearly as much as Beryl had. He was small, somewhere near two-thirds of Beryl's size, and not very muscular at all. While he might be the older brother, he was in no way the bigger of the two.

There was a moment in which Hiccup couldn't help but compare Spark to himself. Small, scrawny, no muscle.

Eventually, Spark's breathing slowed a bit, and the odd noise that for Furies passed as sobbing subsided, though it didn't stop entirely. He stepped closer, eyes closed and head still pressed against Hiccup's chest.

Spark's voice was broken and almost stretched, an odd tone that Hiccup only vaguely recognized as a stressed and aged version of the hatchling he knew. "This is too good to be true. Please do not let me wake up from this dream."

Hiccup's heart broke a little. "This is not a dream. You are awake."

Spark was clearly still skeptical. "That is what you and Dam say in my dreams too." He whined. "And then I wake up, and there is no one."

Beryl grumbled half-heartedly. "I could thrash you. That would make you believe."

Spark looked over, his eyes clouding with... was it sorrow, pain? "A nightmare, then. I have those too."

"Spark, we are both here... in one way or another." Hiccup winced as he recalled exactly how complex that explanation would be once Spark was coherent enough to ask the obvious question.

"I..."

"It's fine. You'll believe eventually." Hiccup sat down where he was, realizing they would be there a while. "We won't leave."

"We do have other things to do, you know." Beryl nodded at the horizon. "She got away, but the hunt isn't over yet."

"We lost her." Hiccup sighed. "I have no idea how to find her again. So it's not like we're wasting time."

"Fine." Beryl snorted, leaping into the air. "He's really messed up. I'll bring food."

That was an understatement. Hiccup watched Spark as his offspring slowly circled him, apparently making sure he was real from all angles, having not even responded to Beryl's comment. Once Spark had made a complete circle, Hiccup addressed him. "What?" There was an odd look in Spark's eyes, next to the pain and inexplicable guilt.

"You are hurt. That is new." Spark shook his head. "And where is Dam?"

Hiccup moaned. "Gone. Dead. This is not a perfect dream, but imperfect reality." He drew Spark's attention to his wounds. "These are as real as I am."

"But..." Spark whined, sitting down. "Beryl said you were both killed, but I thought you both escaped. What happened?"

"That is a very long story. " Hiccup debated inwardly for a moment on what to tell Spark, but he couldn't lie to him. A bit of the truth would suffice. "We did both die. But I am here now, alive and... mostly well."

"You are here." Spark tentatively purred, the sound almost foreign coming from him. "That in itself is too good to be real." It seemed the fact that Hiccup had admitted to dying had gone straight over his head. Maybe it would sink in later.

"It is," Hiccup responded. "Though the method is unusual. I will speak of that later." He recalled his promise to Beryl. "I need to ask you something."

"Anything." Spark's ears were perked, and his entire body betrayed his euphoria.

"What happened to separate you and Beryl?" He had heard Beryl's side. Now to hear how Spark saw it.

Spark flinched at the question, though he seemed willing to answer it. "We were searching for you and Dam. Beryl did not think you were alive, but I did, and we argued constantly. We ran into a group of dragons, carrying prey through the air over the sea. They saw us and flew towards us. Beryl flew at them." Spark whined piercingly, his ears flat against his head. "He was yelling at me, telling me to go away. He abandoned me. I thought he would come and find me once he was done hanging out with those other dragons, but he never came back, and I had to keep searching."

Hiccup put the two conflicting stories together. It made some sense, though Spark had clearly been messed up in the weeks immediately following the attack of Vithvarandi. Not very observant, not thinking clearly, in denial... understandable, all in all.

Such a misunderstanding. "He didn't abandon you. He was protecting you from them."

Spark shook his head. "Then why did he never come and get me?"

"They captured him, and he could not escape for many years." Hiccup met Spark's eyes. "He thought you abandoned him there. It was a massive misunderstanding."

"Really?" Spark's voice was dubious. "Are you sure?"

"He's very sure." Beryl landed behind them, bearing fish, his expression soft.

Hiccup wondered how long Beryl had been listening, unobserved. The fish was almost entirely dry, which implied a few minutes at least. As did the fact that Beryl looked so calm, instead of furious at Spark for 'abandoning' him. He must have heard what Spark thought had happened.

Beryl cautiously approached and dropped the fish in front of Spark. "We both misinterpreted the situation. I thought I could just fly away after they had captured me. I didn't know about the Queen."

"The Queen?" Spark seemed to be beginning to believe. His voice was quiet and he seemed overwhelmed. "Who is that?"

Beryl purred smugly. "Who was that, you mean. She's gone now." He faltered, looking over at Hiccup.

Considering Spark's fragile state, Hiccup felt it best not to overwhelm him any more. "That story can wait."

O-O-O-O-O

They spent the rest of the day together, mostly in silence. Spark seemed to be aware that they didn't want to overwhelm him, and refrained from asking questions. Hiccup would have begun explaining, but the wearied appearance of Spark, along with the wounds he himself and Beryl bore both sapped his strength and made him wary.

That was what eventually broke the silence. Hiccup was too bothered by Spark's almost neglected appearance to hold his tongue. "Spark?"

Spark looked up. "Yes?"

"What are you doing now? You don't look so good. Is the hunting bad?" The lack of muscle was worrying, but Hiccup was beginning to think he could see faint impressions of ribs beneath those pale yellow scales. In addition, the odd structure of the scales around Spark's eyes was entirely unexplainable. Something was off.

Spark shrugged his wings. "The hunting is fine. I just do not eat very much."

"Why not?"

That was met with a squirm, Spark not meeting Hiccup's eyes. "I usually do not feel like it."

"And the scales around your eyes?"

That question seemed to confuse Spark. "What about them?"

Hiccup tried to put what he could see into words. "They are strange. Almost as if they were half-grown, but that makes no sense." He was searching his mind for what could cause that, but nothing fit the symptoms he could see.

Spark frowned. "I do not know anything about that." He lapsed into silence, staring out into the distance.

That night Spark slept in the dirt cave, while Hiccup and Beryl stayed outside, giving him some space. Hiccup took the first watch, unable to be completely at ease even here.

O-O-O-O-O

About an hour into the first watch Hiccup heard something odd. It defied description, a strangled moan coming from...

He quickly walked into the small dirt cave, seeing something he had half expected. Spark was twitching in his sleep, moaning and turning. His back was to Hiccup, but it was clear. The nightmares he had mentioned were plaguing him once more.

Hiccup was about to wake Spark when said dragon rolled over, abruptly revealing what had been hidden by his back. Hiccup jerked back.

Spark's paws were just below his eyes, claws unsheathed and pulling at his face, narrowly missing his eyes. There were trickles of blood coming from where the scales had been pulled askew, cuts in the skin under them bleeding.

Suddenly the odd scales around Spark's eyes made a horrifying amount of sense. Hiccup barked sharply, a command to wake and be alert rolled into a single sound, one he had taught Spark and Beryl specifically for emergencies so long ago.

The effect was immediate. Spark bolted up, claws sheathing even as his eyes opened, wide and startled. Hiccup could hear Beryl moving towards the cave, having also been alerted.

Spark stared at him. "Wha-" He shook his head. "Thank you." A short whine escaped him. "How did you know?"

Hiccup spoke sadly. "I understand now what happened to your scales." He still wasn't sure if Spark fully understood what was happening. His offspring seemed unaware of the trickles of blood on his face.

Spark proved him wrong by grimacing. "I did not want to worry you. I do not do it intentionally, but sometimes I just wake up like this." He awkwardly pressed his face into the dirt wall, blotting most of the blood. "I cannot stop it."

Hiccup padded over and after a moment of indecision licked the remaining blood and dirt off carefully. "You can't. Scoot over." He gestured for Beryl to come in, crowding the small cave. "Now someone will notice as soon as the nightmares return. Sleep. We're here."

Spark purred tiredly, wordlessly thanking Hiccup. He curled up and went back to sleep almost immediately.

Hiccup spoke briefly to Beryl. "He is very troubled."

"Yes, he is. What are we going-"

"We're going to help him, of course." Hiccup glanced over at Spark. "He's your brother."

"I wasn't suggesting we leave him!" Beryl shook his head wildly, dismissing the idea. "That would probably kill him."

Hiccup agreed with that assessment. His heart was breaking, thinking of what Spark had gone through, to so powerfully haunt him even now. Losing his parents, and then his brother. Living with the traumatized memories, thinking he had been abandoned and left behind by family. Quite similar to what Beryl had gone through. Thinking back...

"You two are more alike than you think." Hiccup voiced the connection he had made. "Both traumatized by being abandoned."

"But I had an enemy to blame," Beryl growled. "And a friend to help me fix things."

"While Spark only had himself to blame." A thought ran through Hiccup's mind, a crazy plan. "Beryl, would you say revenge helped you cope?"

"Not really. You did more for that."

"So we do the same for Spark. Support him, help him out of this..." It was depression, from what Hiccup could tell. Not eating, sadness, refusing to fully believe things were getting better. Terrible nightmares. It all fit the bill. "It's not like I know how to follow Vithvarandi anyway."

"She'll come back someday if we don't kill her." Beryl shifted uneasily, facing the exit of the small dirt cave. "We can't let her get away."

"I promise bud, as soon as we know where to go I'll be the first to keep chasing. But right now we're stuck." That was the reality of their situation. No matter how much it frustrated him.

O-O-O-O-O

The night passed slowly. Hiccup ended up waking Spark four times over the remainder of the night, far more often than Beryl had thought would be necessary. No one got much sleep.

That didn't seem to matter to Spark, who rose with the sun, tired but... enthusiastic. About everything.

Beryl groaned, a tugging on his ear pulling him from light sleep only recently obtained. One eye sluggishly opened to see a scrawny yellow Night Fury motioning towards the coast.

"Come on!" Spark seemed happy, but there was a pitiful pleading undertone to his voice that didn't seem to go away as time passed. "We can go hunting before Sire wakes up."

Before Hiccup woke up. Beryl nodded slowly, not wanting to say no to his brother now, of all times, when they had just found him. He did, however, question one part of that plan. "Why not wait until he wakes and all go together?"

"I..." Spark glanced over at the sleeping orange Fury. "I want to thank him. For last night." He purred sheepishly. "You too, but hunting on my own takes too long."

Beryl rose to his feet, stretching his wings as they trotted towards the woods. "A good idea. We can talk as we go." He and Hiccup hadn't discussed how to explain the situation, but Beryl had a pretty good idea as to how to start. "I was grounded, for a while."

Spark stumbled and face-planted in the dirt. He slowly recovered, spitting dirt and staring wide-eyed at Beryl.

"For a while, I said. It was worth it." Beryl rumbled happily, taking the lead in searching for tracks or scents, speaking as he did. "I hate to imagine what would have happened if he had missed that night. I'd either be dead or still a slave. The war would continue."

His tone grew speculative, where before it had been confident. "Really, Ember wouldn't be around either. Vithvarandi would be..."

Well, no, she'd still be doing exactly what she ended up doing. Searching for a candidate for her twisted gifts, failing miserably every time. Killing to prolong her own worthless existence. "Never mind her. That part isn't my story to tell."

Spark jumped over a fallen log, trailing after Beryl eagerly. "What do you mean, shot down? By a fireball?"

"No, by a No-scaled-not-prey device." Beryl purred, despite the pain inherent in that memory. "He got a lucky shot. Lucky for both of us."

"Please stop speaking in riddles." Spark pleaded. "I do not think I can get any more confused."

"If you wish," Beryl spoke plainly as they hunted. He told of the time spent as a slave to the Queen, being shot down, the despair of not being able to fly, being trapped. By the time they had picked up a trail to follow, Beryl was speaking of the small human that he had tentatively trusted, and what followed. The finale of the hunt happened to correspond to the killing of the Queen, Beryl only pausing briefly to put the deer out of its misery.

Spark insisted on dragging the carcass back to the cave himself, listening intently as Beryl spoke at length about how the human place had changed after the death of the Queen. The many questions he had were forestalled by the carcass in his mouth.

Beryl stopped after speaking of convincing his human companion to carry weapons. "He thought one sharp metal claw was enough. I showed him otherwise." Beryl snickered. "He still doesn't know I was messing with him. But it did make me feel better, especially when he figured out how to carry all of them secretly."

Spark dropped the carcass a few feet away from the cave. His mouth freed, he immediately started with the questions. "He is really your best friend? The..."

"They call themselves humans." Beryl made an approximation of the word in growls. "Yes. You are my brother, and so is he, in a way."

"Then where is he now?" Spark winced at the question even as he spoke. "Is he still around?"

"That is a question with a very long answer." Beryl nodded at the cave. "Sire will answer it later."

"Okay..." Spark tried to change focus. "You let him ride you?"

"If I wanted to fly, yes. But it wasn't a burden or a chore. He enjoyed the flight as much as I did, and possessed no wings to take him up on his own. So I took him." Beryl frowned, speaking seriously. "I always thought he was a dragon in heart if not body." That was immensely ironic now, all things considered.

"Strange." Spark tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "And you are not telling the whole story."

"No, I am not." Beryl walked over to the cave and barked loudly. He was answered by a deep grumble.

"We have food out here." Beryl paused and then grinned. "Move it or we'll only leave the head and guts for you."

Ember shot out of the cave, tackling Beryl as he exited. "Not happening." He announced smugly, before disengaging and taking a share of the food.

"Why not?" Spark took one of the aforementioned pieces and swallowed casually. "They are the best parts."

Hiccup, or as Spark saw him, Ember, shuddered. "Maybe to you. I'd rather my food not stare at me as I eat it."

They finished off the deer in companionable silence. Ember finished first. "Thank you both for hunting for all of us. I would have helped, you know."

"Which is why I did not want to wake you." Spark replied. "I wanted to thank you."

After a moment, Hiccup looked around almost uncomfortably. He seemed to be building up the courage to say something.

Beryl knew what it was. "Ember," he said carefully, "I brought Spark up to speed a little bit as we hunted."

Hiccup flinched. "Exactly how up to speed is he?"

"The last I told him was of arming my human friend so that he could protect himself," Beryl replied slyly.

"So basically, you left me the hard part." Hiccup smirked. "And I'm sure you left out the more embarrassing details of that time."

"I don't know what you're-"

Hiccup snorted, laughing at the affronted expression on Beryl's face. "Need I remind you of the eel incident, or the time you and," he faltered for a moment, "your human friend were accidentally stuck together, and had to sneak into the human nest to break apart?"

"No, those are not important," Beryl growled in embarrassment. "Anyway, you're up."

* * *

"That I am." Hiccup moved over to look Spark in the eyes, entirely serious. His son was fragile even now, and explaining this in the wrong way could break him. That was quite apparent.

Spark met his gaze steadily, eyes shining with that now slightly repressed euphoria tinged with lingering fear and disbelief. All caused by Ember's presence. It was like a building held up by a tangle of supports, some rotting and some entirely ineffective where they sat. To mess with them was to court disaster, but it had to be done.

"Spark, look carefully." Hiccup began. "And know this. I am here, now. Keep that in mind, no matter what I tell you happened in the past, or the circumstances behind _how_ I am here."

Spark nodded fearfully, but his voice cracked. "If it is so bad, I do not want to know." He didn't seem at all ashamed to admit that. "Let me live in blissful ignorance."

Hiccup shook his head sadly. "Ignorance is never bliss for long. In this case, ignorance is very dangerous." Vithvarandi was a monster, one whose greatest strength was anonymity. Knowing she existed was mandatory, especially for Spark. And his own story was inextricably tied to her, so the two came together. No matter how hard the knowledge hit.

"So..?" Spark kept his head up, waiting.

"So, you saw your Dam and I die, that day on the beach." Regardless of what his son had chosen to believe at the time.

"I did. But-"

"You saw what happened. That dragon killed us both." Hiccup leaned forward, his nose just barely touching Spark's shoulder. "Remember, I am here _now_."

Spark inhaled deeply. "I know."

"So, you know that much. Beryl and his friend encountered someone they did not know, recently. Someone who promised to return the friend's leg."

Spark blinked. "No-scaled-not-prey can do that?"

Hiccup shook his head deliberately. "No. They can't. That is what made her so strange. The friend made a bad decision, and he and Beryl went to where she said, descending into a nightmarish tangle of tunnels and old things, eventually finding the same strange one in the center. She did something to the friend, promising him the ability to live forever if he'd just do a few things."

Spark flinched. "What did he have to do?" His voice conveyed how nervous the story was already making him.

Hiccup held eye contact. "Two things. First, she wanted him to be her immortal mate. Second, and much worse, she wanted him to kill Beryl. The power she gave him was the same she had." He inhaled. "The ability to take the body and memories of someone at the same time as taking their life."

Spark took a step backward, his eyes wide and wild. "And if he refused?" He glanced over at Beryl. "Clearly, he did."

"He would die without taking a life in the next few hours."

That information made Spark droop like a dying plant, his ears falling and eyelids dropping in sadness. Before anyone could speak, he whined quietly. "And so he died, which explains where he is now."

Beryl snorted. "He isn't that easy to kill." He motioned to Ember. "Keep listening."

Ember purred comfortingly. "The strange one was not happy when the friend said he'd die rather than kill Beryl. She attacked Beryl herself, to take his body. But the stolen body she used was one that Beryl didn't want to fight. Mine." He forged ahead, needing to get to the dubiously not-horrible resolution quickly. "She, it appears, had been that dragon so many years ago. Eventually, the friend by pure chance killed her while in my form."

Spark was eyeing him suspiciously now, seeing where this story was leading.

"Apparently, the first kill one makes with that power is... different," Ember spoke clearly, making sure Spark remembered this part if nothing else. "The memories merge, coexist. As if the one had lived the entire life of the other. Their personalities also merge, I think. The friend and Beryl escaped, and the stranger followed. She killed many in her misguided attempt to gain the acceptance of the friend."

Spark barked, interrupting the narrative before Ember could continue. "So, are you my Sire?" His voice was heartbroken but angry. "Or just a No-scaled-not-prey playing with his body?!"

Ember glared at him. "Did you not hear me? It is as accurate to say I, Ember, am playing with his body, were I to take that form. _We_ ," he emphasized, "are a single being now, somehow. Not just Ember, and not just Hiccup. Both. It took a while to find balance, but _I_ am Ember. I am also Hiccup. We are not two minds fighting for control, or one using the other. We are one." It was quite hard to put into words, especially as he had only relatively recently found that balance. To be fair, explaining the strange, gradual process of merging two sets of memories and instincts wasn't something he really had experience doing.

Spark visibly wavered, eyeing Ember as if he'd suddenly sprout human hands or something similarly ridiculous. "I was right. I did not want to know." He rumbled sadly. "Now I cannot even look at you without suspicion. How can I take your word about which of you is in control, or, as you say, both of you together?"

Ember held eye contact even now, and moved closer again, forcing Spark to look him in the eye up close. "Look at me and tell me I am not your Sire. Listen to me speak, remember the last day. At any point did I seem like another person?"

After a moment Spark shook his head angrily. "No! But-"

"Then why do you care?" Ember asked softly. "The alternative is that I remain dead. This is as close as anyone has ever gotten to a second chance, in my knowledge. And unlike the strange one's victims, my other half is fine with this. I am fine with this. The strange one took my life, but Beryl's friend gave it back, gave me a second chance. We are similar, and we share the same priorities. I do not regret this merging." Speaking of his nebulous state of existence as two people merged into one was giving him a headache. At some point in the conversation he'd switched from thinking of himself as Hiccup to Ember, but that didn't mean anything now. They were at equilibrium, truly inseparable now. Both names referred to the merged being. But explaining that was nigh on impossible to do coherently, it seemed.

"I guess..." Spark sighed. "Beryl, does he speak the truth?" He looked over at his brother.

Beryl grinned. "That's the best explanation he's ever given, and the most accurate. I was there for everything and saw the progression. He's right."

"Then... I will accept that." Spark's eyes flashed with amusement. "Sire?"

"Yes?" Ember rumbled curiously.

"Can you show me the other form you have? Just so I know what it looks like." Spark backed up. "I feel like I should know."

Ember sighed dramatically, secretly amazed and relieved that Spark hadn't broken at some point in the explanation, and had accepted his odd state of existence.

Actually, recalling Spark's euphoria, maybe it wasn't so strange that he had blindly accepted with very little objection. Ember suspected that if he had told his son he had gone to the moon and held the sun between his paws Spark would have done his best to believe. Whatever explanation allowed Ember to be real and present, Spark would have clung to. That he was only now asking for proof, after visibly accepting Ember's story as the truth, spoke of a need to believe.

"If I must." Ember triggered the change, closing his eyes as the blue flames covered them.

Spark gasped as the flames receded to reveal the human body Ember also saw as his own, the still scrawny human boy with one less leg and green eyes. Spark nudged him carefully, wordlessly inquiring.

Ember laughed. "Still me. And I can still understand you."

The next few minutes were spent with Spark investigating the first No-scaled-not-prey he'd ever seen up close. Ember cooperated, showing Spark everything from his prosthetic leg to the knives he kept on him.

Beryl participated a bit, but as the minutes passed he abruptly grew quiet, humming to himself, deep in thought.

Ember looked over at Beryl after a bit. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," Beryl responded absently, staring into space. "Something is nagging at the back of my mind, but I cannot-" His eyes widened, and he barked triumphantly. "That was it!"

"What was?"

Beryl winced at something. "I know how to track Vithvarandi, I think... but you might not like it."


	17. Candid

**_Author's Note:_ Another early post as opposed to a late one. By next saturday my schedule is back to normal, so no more early ones or late ones. Also, the sequel to this story is done. It's 160,000+ words. More than half again what this story clocks in at. It will continue this story's posting schedule with no break, so anyone who dreaded the end of this, rest assured there's thirty more chapters coming, though the next book is not horror. This isn't really that much Horror except in an existential, psychological way either, to be fair.**

Spark shifted uncomfortably, looking around the small clearing on their home island they were standing in as if making sure they were truly alone. "Vithvarandi? Is she the one..?"

Ember shifted back to his draconic form, the very mention of their enemy's name making him cautious. "Yes, she is the one responsible for so many deaths. Mine, your Dam's, my human side's Sire, and many others. We were hunting her down when I found this place again."

"But we had lost her." Beryl shuffled in place, clearly not liking what he was thinking. "Because we're not the greatest at tracking by scent."

"Yes, Nadders are much better equipped for that." Ember mused absently, recalling several examples of...

The realization hit him. "No."

"We need to track her," Beryl said calmly, though his body language still conveyed unease. "And it just so happens that you, by my memory, dealt the killing blow on Stormfly's body that night."

Ember growled. "I will not be like her." It felt different to use any body besides the two he truly had a claim to. Though he had felt that way back when all of this was new. Regardless, even if he'd eventually come to integrate Stormfly as thoroughly as Ember, which he was pretty sure wouldn't happen, that didn't mean he wanted to. She, to be entirely frank, was not someone whose personality traits he wanted blending with his own.

"You don't have to be." Beryl continued. "But we can either run forever or go after her and end this. Until we do end this, we need to do whatever it takes."

Ember didn't like that either. But Beryl was right, to a point. They couldn't afford to pull their punches, not when Vithvarandi didn't.

"You are going after... the one who killed Dam..." Spark mused, his tone darkening. He looked up, his face twisted in anger. "Find her, whatever it takes. And I am going with you."

Ember wavered, faced with the determination of both of his sons, and knowing it was necessary.

It was necessary.

He bowed his head. "You are right, no matter how much it pains me." Vithvarandi needed to be stopped, no matter what. He took a step back, making sure he had space. "Here goes nothing."

That space in his head was there, as always. He recalled Stormfly, how she looked, the two legs and wings, the beak unique to Nadders, shining blue scales. Merging that image with the space in his head did the trick. His vision fell away.

This time was different. Before the memories could truly take hold, both sides of his mind working in tandem forced them... askew, somehow. There was no good way to describe the sensation. As if he had been pulled out of a scene and set at a remove, watching from behind a pane of glass, seeing through Stormfly's eyes and knowing what she thought but not thinking like her, being her.

His guess had been correct. The first time was the only time memories were absorbed, so powerful that they counted as his own. He was experiencing this with his mind intact, seeing it at a remove. Memories came and went, a few standing out enough for him to pay attention to.

Stormfly burst from her shell, swimming up in her first moments of life, breaking the surface of a warm pool on some bright and sunny island, surrounded by other infant Nadders, her parents squawking at her. She was fed, though she had to wait until her minutes-older siblings ate. Jealousy was one of the first emotions she ever felt.

More memories of childhood, of being the fifth hatchling in a clutch of eight. Of her older brothers and sisters, her younger sisters. An often-squabbling, always preening family.

Time passed. Eventually, she learned to fly and followed her parents back to the Nest. To the domain of the Queen, where it became apparent they were unwilling subjects.

Ember paid more attention to the outskirts of Stormfly's perception. The flickering shadows on the edge of her vision, things she dismissed. Beryl. He watched carefully the few times Stormfly interacted with Beryl. Beryl told all the younger dragons of Spark and was ridiculed for it after a few months.

It broke Ember's heart, the few glimpses Stormfly had caught of the Night Fury, growing more and more despondent as it became clear Spark wasn't coming. Becoming withdrawn, disappearing in the melodramatic squabbles and life of the nest, isolated.

Stormfly, however, didn't really care. She cared about her own well-being and status, and that was about it. Status demanded she go on as many raids as possible, so she did. Ember tried to ignore the cries of pain, the damage Stormfly's white-hot magnesium flares did to humans and building alike. It was almost a relief when she was netted and captured on Berk one raid.

Here he paid more attention, noticing the subtle details.

It had been Gobber who netted Stormfly, though she didn't know him, for obvious reasons. He had thrown her into the Nadder pen in the arena immediately, while the raid was still going on. Stormfly had been in denial for a while, though reality set in soon enough.

Weeks passed, time in which Stormfly languished in a cell, spoke to the other captives. Then she was let out, some indeterminable time later, in an event Ember recognized as that second day of training. It was interesting to see that from Stormfly's perspective, the teens really had looked like squabbling insects, not worth her time except as entertainment. He saw himself, in an odd out-of-body experience.

More experiences passed, though Ember didn't really pay attention. He specifically ignored the fight with the Red Death, having no desire to relive that. What came after, however, was what he had never seen before. Those months he had been unconscious.

It began the night after the defeat of the Red Death. All Stormfly knew was that the dark one who had spun futile tales would let no dragon near his charge, unconscious and broken though it was. She didn't really care. Her blond-furred charge was trying to tell her to do something. She had nothing better to do, so she tried to understand.

The blond-furred one gestured at the dark dragon and shook her head. Then she barked in a commanding voice, motioning for Stormfly to go over there and...

Stormfly thought she understood. Her charge wanted the dark one out of the way, for some reason, away from his injured charge. She knew how to do that. "Tale-spinner!" She squawked, using a taunting term the young of the nest had come up with, just to irk him. "Come over here!"

Tale-spinner barely even looked over at her, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "Yes, because using that name is a great way to get me to listen to you." He said quietly. "It is Beryl. I will not respond to anything else from you."

"Whatever. Come over here." Stormfly chuckled quietly when the dark one left his charge, not noticing her blond-furred charge creeping up from another direction.

The dark one reached her, his posture conveying deep weariness of mind and body. "What is it?"

Stormfly noted that the dark one's charge was being conveyed to rest on the back of the two-head that had its own No-scaled-not-prey riders. She didn't care why. "No reason."

The dark one growled in frustration. "Then why-" He turned around and stiffened when he saw his injured charge being flown away. "What are you doing?!"

Stormfly didn't bother to watch him once it became clear he wasn't going to offend her own charge. She was happy her trick had worked.

Her blond-furred charge came over and got on her back, asking her something in that incomprehensible language, likely to follow. She did, noting smugly that the dark one had to ride one of those floating tree contraptions back, like a No-scaled-not-prey.

The No-scaled-not-prey had a hard time adjusting to them living in the same places, roosting on the rooftops. Scaring the animals that for some reason weren't for eating, despite being kept in the open where anyone could just take them.

But things were working out. Stormfly noted smugly that her charge was taking control of smoothing issues out, forcefully smashing any disturbance that came to her attention. In the meantime, she worked with her charge. They developed a way for her charge to tell her what she wanted easily and quickly. One noise meant to be quiet, another meant to go get that. Stormfly learned them eagerly, happy to demonstrate that she understood her charge just as well as that smug old lump-dragon who knew what the No-scaled-not-prey said all the time. That was a worthless skill, but understanding simple commands was smart. Like what her kind did in general, having simple calls to alert the whole pack.

It irked her that the dark one was learning the language of the No-scaled-not-prey, even though he never left that single wooden hut that his injured charge was rotting in. She asked him why he was sticking around one who was clearly going to die, and he snapped at her. Several times. She concluded that he was being immature, and left it at that.

Then one day the sickly one woke up, despite her being sure it would die. Her charge even greeted it affectionately, for some reason. After they had raced that day, her charge had paced and ranted for hours, angry, likely about that display of affection. Stormfly wasn't sure why, but again, it didn't matter.

After that, the dark one had been insufferably smug, happily helping his lame charge walk, going everywhere with it. The other dragons had taken to calling the broken one the dark one's missing piece, and vice versa, and had also taken to calling the dark one Beryl, as he had said so long ago. There was no scorn for a giver of false hope now. All the other dragons had forgotten all the times the dark one had given the younger among them false hope, the hope of a swift dragon with scales that glowed like the sun, coming to challenge the Queen and save them. Why did no one else care about that now?

After a few weeks, the dark one and his charge left, and Stormfly was happy. Though that stupid idea with the staining liquid did bother her. It bothered her even more when the dark one and his charge returned and immediately defied the order of her charge, the broken one putting the staining liquid on himself and the dark one, clearly spiting her charge. She ended up reminding 'Beryl' of his past wrongs at their next meeting, happily scoring a point over the one who had somehow taught his charge to understand them.

Simply put, she was jealous now. If only her charge could learn this. She spent a full day talking non-stop at her blond-furred charge, hoping she'd pick it up, but to no avail. When she got fed up, she headed out to the shore, intent on fishing to take her mind off of the failure.

Ember watched impassively, knowing what was coming.

A local No-scaled-not-prey waved Stormfly down, clearly in distress. She landed, squawking inquisitively. Did it want her charge? She knew where-

A sword swung from behind the treacherous No-scaled-not-prey's back, and she knew no more.

Ember gasped, falling straight forward, his body numb and mind overwhelmed. Like before, it had only lasted a few seconds. The working of this new body was slightly familiar, but the deep familiarity he'd had with that of a Night Fury was not present. Clearly, the lower quality of memory also distanced him from muscle memory. More than a fair trade. He'd had no idea just how scatter-brained and self-centered Stormfly really was. Definitely not a personality he wanted to be merged with his own.

His mind randomly latched onto one of the things he had seen. It hurt to know Astrid had pretty much immediately regretted that kiss, the first day he woke up. But at least it definitely wasn't his fault, as he hadn't done anything. She had clearly gotten over whatever vague affection she felt towards him while he was unconscious those months.

After a moment his vision cleared. His head was on the ground, body splayed awkwardly out as it had fallen. Beryl was visible on the edge of his vision.

"Gods, Stormfly was such a jerk." He groaned. "I don't like to speak badly of the dead, but seriously. She enjoyed taunting you, Beryl, for no real reason other than she could." He hated remembering that from Stormfly's perspective.

"I knew that already." Beryl snorted. "Remember why you did this, please."

"Right, that." Ember tried to recall how Stormfly had often tracked down anyone she wanted to find by scent alone. His more current memories provided Vithvarandi's scent. He awkwardly clambered to his feet, trying to get used to the very different distribution of weight. A stocky and heavy tail along with only two legs made for an odd combination. Flying was going to be difficult. Actually...

"I think I need to get used to this body before we go looking for her scent trail," Ember admitted. "I need to be able to fly."

Spark eyed him dubiously. "You cannot now?"

"I don't know. It was different last time. This time I don't have the muscle memory." At least that explained why Vithvarandi was somewhat clumsy and inefficient in some of the more exotic bodies she had used for combat, such as the Snaptrapper. Apparently, one needed to relearn and reacquire the skill they could vaguely remember having.

That was another thing. Unless he tried to bring them up, Stormfly's memories had faded almost entirely. That was a relief. He began awkwardly running around the clearing, having no goal other than to familiarize himself with this body enough to attempt flight.

Spark snorted, watching in obvious amusement. "Nadders are awkward."

"I'm sure... it's just me... that's awkward." Ember huffed out between laps. Running with two legs was normal enough, but the added weights of his tail and wings were new.

Beryl began running alongside him, loping easily at the halting pace Ember was setting, his tongue out. "Come on, Stormfly was faster than that!" His voice faltered mid-taunt, but he kept the carefree mood going despite the awkwardness of what he had just said. "Maybe you need motivation!"

Ember sped up through sheer force of will, making his awkward body move faster, recalling as much of Stormfly's muscle memory as he could. "I've got motivation."

By noon he was up in the air, though there were a few close calls. Nadders needed to take a much more active role in flying than Furies, especially to maintain the same pace. Getting used to flapping many times more often had led to some quite harrowing plummets. They were on the trail now though, heading towards the beach, where hopefully the scent trail would still be traceable.

Spark seemed in a good mood, flipping around Beryl as they flew. He was quite maneuverable, even more than Beryl, though some of that was likely due to being smaller and lighter. After a few particularly daring flips, Spark stuck his tongue out.

"Come on, have you gotten slow?"

"We need to conserve strength, Spark," Beryl replied. "But no, I haven't!" He flipped midair, batting Spark's face with the tip of his wing. It was on. The two tumbled through the clouds, tagging each other in a series of increasingly risky maneuvers. Spark was a smaller target, but Beryl was skilled in avoiding his smaller but older brother's moves, deftly jolting away at the last moment. Their joyful roars echoed through the noon sky.

Ember would have grinned, had his current body possessed the capacity. Actually...

Beryl and Spark were both shocked when Ember barreled in between them, tagging each with a single wingtip as he plummeted in free-fall, back in his Night Fury form. The two brothers shared a look of surprise that quickly morphed into determination, and darted after their Sire, accepting his challenge.

The flight back to that beach passed far quicker than any of them had anticipated, time eaten up in games of maneuverability and agility. Ember reveled in playing with his sons, something he had long anticipated and never been able to do, not to this capacity. All three of them were fully grown, Night Furies in their prime. Speed was their element, alongside the night itself. Any other dragons would have faltered at the sight, sure the three reckless Furies would foul each other's flight and doom themselves to fall, flipping and spinning so close to each other, tagging with wingtips despite the extremely likely possibility of that upsetting the tagger's balance.

They laughed in the face of doubt, taking the time to temporarily drop the burden of reality. A moment to act as if all was as it should be, as if immortal murderers and Queen dragons did not and had never existed.

Reality rudely reintroduced itself at the first sight of the beach, the stained and shattered place of battle, still blood-soaked and dotted with glass spires of death. It was a gruesome sight.

Spark shuddered mid-air, dropping away from the game. "This is the place?" He asked carefully, seeming to dread the answer.

Beryl snorted angrily, swooping around high above the signs of carnage. "We came close here. Next time will be successful."

"Yes," Ember absently agreed, shifting back to Stormfly's body in the air, already scenting the very subtle trail where the Terror abruptly transitioned to a Nadder. Vithvarandi's scents might change when she changed forms, but a line drawn alone was followable no matter how many different colors it took. This was usable. Without even setting down they set out after the trail. The mood was solemn now, determination marking every wingbeat. Despite not having truly fought or met Vithvarandi, Spark was as determined as his brother, his face set in a stone-cold glare.

Whether driven by vengeance, necessity, or self-preservation, they were all ready to end the chase, to end the danger to humans and dragons alike.

The trail hopped several small islands and sea-stacks, places Vithvarandi set down along the way to stop from dropping of exhaustion. The chase had been a grueling affair of days, not hours, and to follow the same path a second time was slightly vexing. The time soon came, however, where instead of searching aimlessly, having lost sight of Vithvarandi, Ember led the way confidently, Vithvarandi's trail never faltering. It was only slightly annoying that she had apparently only altered course slightly in the cloud bank, turning just enough to lose them. The trail continued, eventually bringing them to land. That was when it got difficult.

They set down on the rocky shore, Ember leading the way.

Spark balanced precariously on two boulders, his wings outstretched to maintain his precarious perch. "Why are we setting down? Is she here?"

"No. She must have continued on foot." Ember growled, frustrated.

"Because we would have just flown by, not knowing she was below us." Beryl reasoned calmly, though his voice held an ominously sharp edge. "So we follow."

"We do." Ember agreed, walking forward, still following Vithvarandi's scent, though it had changed again, to something he didn't recognize. Something fast, judging by the surprisingly strained trail, which indicated that she had been moving quite quickly, not leaving much scent behind in any one place.

The continued chase became frustratingly slow, Ember forced to remain in Stormfly's body to track Vithvarandi, incapable in this form of running anywhere near as fast or effortlessly as a Night Fury could. As Beryl and Spark were. His two sons took over hunting, moving so much faster than Ember could that they were able to run down prey and catch up to him while he continued forward at this body's top speed. It was frustrating, but there was no alternative. They spent several days moving along the ground, traversing miles of forest and more of open plains. Always ready to fight, expecting to be ambushed. No attack ever came.

Those days also saw Spark returning to something closer to what Ember remembered as normal. His son's nightmares did not fade, but Spark assured them that being woken immediately every time they began was infinitely preferable. It showed in his demeanor, his increasing energy as the days went by. He and Beryl had mended any lingering resentments, and things were somewhat normal. Somewhat, because while Spark seemed to be returning to his old self, Beryl had changed in good ways in the past years. Though physical age might deny it, Beryl was the older brother in action and maturity now, while Spark was still immature mentally, as if he had stopped growing all those years ago, and only resumed now.

It mattered not, in the long run. They were together, and soon they'd hopefully be free of the only remaining torment, the only fragment of the past that clung unpleasantly.

Once that had been dealt with... Ember now knew how to return to the island he and Flint had claimed all those years ago, the island they had raised Spark and Beryl on. There was nothing there now. However, knowing where it was gave Ember a reference point. It was possible now to retrace his steps, those years of wandering. To find his way home, truly home. To see if things there had changed if things had maybe stayed the same. It had been so, so many years. His promise to one day return had been broken by his death. If all of the current predicament could be resolved...

No. He couldn't afford to look ahead yet. Despite them being the hunters, Vithvarandi's defeat was in no way ensured. She seemed like one to hold back many last-ditch plans, just in case the unthinkable happened. One to take steps to ensure survival. She was down but in no way out.

That was his train of thought when they reached the crest of a hill and looked down upon a small town. It was in the shape of a four-way crossing, a single intersection branching into four dirt roads, lined on both sides with buildings. A quiet, small place that barely survived on whatever trade or game kept it afloat.

Ember felt like roaring in frustration when Vithvarandi's trail pointed straight at the village. She was likely stocking up on bodies, and this village, small though it was, likely had dozens of people in it. She'd gotten here days ago.

"Is she still there?" Beryl wondered out loud, having figured out why Ember was frustrated. "There are still people walking around, so she hasn't taken everyone."

A quick circling of the village on foot from afar confirmed that Vithvarandi hadn't left. She was still there, for some reason. Maybe she planned to hide in the anonymity of the crowd, impersonating some luckless villager for a while.

It didn't matter. There were only humans here, and Ember had over the last week realized something. Something important, something easily overlooked.

It was twilight when they confirmed that Vithvarandi was still in the village.

"Now what?" Spark asked, looking down on the unsuspecting town. "We could lay waste to it, drive her out." He didn't sound like he liked that idea.

"Definitely not." Beryl retorted, his teeth out and snapping angrily at Spark. "We will not massacre people to get at her, and making enemies is a bad idea. They aren't completely helpless. She would just slip away during the chaos and hope one of those villagers got lucky."

"Beryl is right." Ember hesitated and then decided. "You two watch the sky and the village. If anyone leaves during the night, attack." No normal villager would want to wander such a tangled forest as lay beyond the hills.

"And you..." Beryl groaned. "Are, of course, going in there on your own."

Ember shifted to his human form, grinning as he checked his multitude of daggers. "If either of you has a human form tucked away somewhere you can join me. But seriously, I can find her, and hopefully whittle her forms down in the village." He hefted the long hunting dagger.

"How will you find her?"

"Using something I really wish we had thought of on Berk," Ember replied, holding up his hands. The ones marked with the distinctive scars both he and Vithvarandi bore. The scars the transforming flames originated from and disappeared into. "This thing is always there, no matter the body." He had checked, it was even on the edge of Stormfly's wings, lacking a paw there.

"So you will know her by her scars?" Spark concluded, his voice dubious. "Do No-scaled-not-prey go around showing each other their paws like that?"

"No, but I'll figure it out," Ember responded confidently. "There aren't a lot of people there. It shouldn't take that long to check them all." Less than a hundred people. A few days, at most. He was glad he still had the money made from selling those skins so long ago. "I shouldn't be in there more than a few days at most, likely much less. Oh, and if I roar, all bets are off."

"Got it," Beryl growled, eyeing the village. "We will wait. No one leaves this place without us knowing about it. We can even check them if they leave during the day."

Creeping through the forest, stalking travelers and looking at their palms? Nothing said that wouldn't work. "Good plan."

Ember walked down the hill towards the village, the light of the sunset fading as he descended, torches lit to cast the village in an ominous light. His plan was actually quite simple. Be seen. He had no other human form, and Vithvarandi was sure to recognize this one. Either she'd flee, or she'd attack. It was time to end this.


	18. Determination

The village was quite lively after dark. Ember came across several people going about some business in the night, none of them giving him a second look. This place must be on some well-used travel route, for its inhabitants to be so inured to visitors. Even small one-legged teenagers wandering around after dark, their eyes too experienced to belong in such a young body. Ember laughed softly, seeing one of the only buildings open to the public. He might be able to pass as an adult here, but in a place such as this, no one would care. He'd have no issues entering the only tavern on town. The question was, would Vithvarandi be there?

It depended on which villager she had picked as a disguise. She'd keep their habits to ensure the illusion, so if she'd picked a drinker, she would be there. Besides, there was no way for him to check the people asleep in their houses at the moment, and it was likely this tavern also doubled as the town's inn. He subtly checked that his daggers were all in reach, all hidden, and entered the tavern.

It was actually quite crowded. Every man in the village must be there, along with quite a few of the women and several children. It held the atmosphere of a small Great Hall, food and alcohol going side by side with stories and arguments, all in good fun. Ember felt a brief pang of melancholy, but it was quickly snuffed out by the reality of what he was pining for. Nights of isolation among others, ignored and cast aside even in festivity as the screwup and runt, or more recently constant attention that just felt wrong compared to how it had been before. No, he didn't miss that, and he didn't really miss Berk. The few things he did miss were either dead, like his father, tied to Beryl, like the cove, or old fragments of the past, like Gobber.

The tavern was spread out, space between tables providing a small fragment of privacy completely ignored by most of the patrons. All save one, who sat in a corner of the room. The figure wore a cloak, but the hood fell as the stranger looked up, seemingly bored, slumped over a mug of mead. Her face was thin as if slightly annoyed at all times, her blue eyes glinting in the torchlight.

Eye contact was made. Ember felt the blood rush to his head as the stranger paled, though she tried to hide it. He didn't recognize her, but that made no difference. She knew him, of that he was certain, which meant he had already found his quarry.

But he had to be sure. He carefully walked over, sitting at a nearby table, facing her. There was no way he was turning his back to her. They stared at each other for a few moments. Nothing was said.

Then the woman held up a shaking hand, carefully displaying a palm clear of scars. She did the same with her other hand. No scars there either. It was a simple display of fear, showing that one meant no harm and held no weapon, but it to Ember also showed that she was definitely not Vithvarandi.

Ember's mind worked as fast as it could, sorting through the logic of the situation. She knew him, knew his appearance. Was scared of him, or of something. Had proved she wasn't Vithvarandi. Where was Vithvarandi?

A scrape of a chair behind him caused him to whip around, his hand moving to the hidden hilt of one of his knives. Another woman sat across the table from him, her face troubled. She spoke quietly.

"I want no trouble. Not here."

"Too late." Ember snarled. "You take it with you wherever you go."

"I wish to talk, not fight," Vithvarandi replied.

"To try and convince me to join you once again. Give it up already." Ember wanted to stab her then and there, but that would cause too many issues. She'd return in some random form and attack. He would be forced to shift to a draconic form to better defend himself, and all Hel would break loose.

Vithvarandi seemed to know that. "Please. Manipulation and force have failed us. I have been... permitted," her face twisted, her voice still sad, "to speak to you."

"What does that mean?" Ember asked, curious in spite of himself. Something felt off.

"Surely you understand." Vithvarandi turned her palms over, revealing the scars on her palms. "Two scars, two personalities. That which the person starts with, and that of the first kill. Memories trapped in the same head, personalities fighting for dominance. Clearly, you as Hiccup triumphed over whatever old dragon you were stuck with, despite his advantage in years." Her voice was musing, but now it turned dark, as did her expression. "I was not so powerful against my first kill."

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me," Ember replied. "And my patience is fading."

Vithvarandi snorted. "We have all the time in the world. But my dominant side is impatient, just like you. She is letting me speak, or more accurately embracing my ideals for the moment, so I will be brief. Vithvarandi is not my name. It is hers."

"Sure." Ember deadpanned. "I don't believe a word. It's too convenient, to blame everything you've done on your other half."

"The truth is never convenient. I killed her, the creator of this ability, because back then neither of us knew how to stop it from consuming me in the first hours, and I wanted to stop her from dooming more of her test subjects. But she was old, so much older than I. Our personalities could not be more different, and where I had always wanted only to be whole, she wanted power, control. It is no surprise which of us won the inevitable battle for control, and which was relegated to little more than an ineffective conscience."

"Why do I care?" Ember questioned, not at all convinced. Though that wasn't to say Vithvarandi was lying. It made sense and explained why she was so amoral.

"Because she wants you to leave us alone. Or join us, but neither of us believes that is an option now."

"You bet it isn't an option," Ember growled, the sound threatening despite his human throat.

"I would say I regret that, but I cannot regret my part in it. I was the powerless voice whispering that it was not right, that you were your own person. More than that I was incapable of." Vithvarandi frowned.

"So what, tell me, does your 'dominant side' think you can do here?" Ember asked angrily. "Because so far, you haven't done much."

"I am to request you forget us. That you go and live your life. We will not trouble you, and clearly, the dragon whose memories you were burdened with has been relegated to the same position I am in. You can forget me, and both of us can find what little joy there is in endless loneliness. Or, if you were serious, dying like a mortal."

"You assume much." Ember gritted out. "That I subjugated or even fought the other memories. That I'm willing to forget. That I'll let you continue like this."

"Now you are the one speaking unclearly." Vithvarandi pointed out. Her face was troubled.

"I am not Hiccup. I am not Ember. Our memories never fought for control. There is no secondary person relegated to a corner of my mind, trapped. We are one. I do not even think with two different minds now. Whatever struggle you and your other half are going through, it's not mandatory, inevitable. So there's one thing."

"That makes no sense. Which body do you consider your own above all others?"

"Both. Truly both. I am as comfortable in one as in the other." Ember's mind moved to another topic, another bone of contention between them. He couldn't attack her without endangering innocents here, but such limitations would not exist outside of the crowded tavern. He needed to get her to leave. Angering her enough to make her give up would work. "And that means I blame you for all of it. My own death. The death of my mate. The death of my father. All. Of. It."

"Well, so much for that." Vithvarandi's inflection had changed, and something was ever so subtly different about her now. "She never is any help."

"I suppose you're the one she blames for all of this." Ember deadpanned, frustrated. If he had his way, he'd be driving her out to face his wrath and the wrath of his sons right now.

"The one you know, of course," Vithvarandi replied. "She never sees the need to do what is necessary. I would offer once more for you to join me..."

Ember stood, his knife in hand. "You can go to Hel first."

"You are intent on sending me there?" Vithvarandi asked sarcastically. "Your morals are clouded. Unwilling to kill a dragon, but willing to kill an unarmed woman, in full sight of half this village."

"That's always bothered me." Ember retorted, not caring about the audience they now had. "You know better than any human that dragons are just as intelligent. Why do you refer to them as animals?"

"Habit." Vithvarandi stood, facing Ember. "Custom. Does it matter? I don't care about their lives, and I don't care about the lives of those around us. They will die anyway. But you care. Which is why I set this up."

"Set what-"

"I knew you'd find me. So take this as a warning." The woman Ember had originally mistaken for Vithvarandi came over, followed by three burly men with cudgels. She pointed at Ember.

Vithvarandi continued speaking. "Or maybe a test. Their lives are meaningless. Will you endanger or take them to get at me? Seems like an internal conflict to me." She smirked.

"You." One of the men grabbed Ember's shoulder, fingers gripping painfully. "No fighting in here. The woman here says yer causin' trouble."

"I start no trouble." Ember shrugged the hand off, sheathing his knife. "But sometimes I finish it."

"Not in our village. Especially not by threatenin' miss Jacin's sister." The guard gestured to the woman, and then Vithvarandi. "They are villagers. Yer a foreigner."

That explained that. Ember pitied the woman who had lost her sister to Vithvarandi, who likely didn't even know it yet. He also cursed Vithvarandi for setting all of this up.

"I'm thinkin' a night in out jail will cool you off, little hothead." The burly Viking continued.

Ember didn't bother resisting as the men took him out of the tavern. He would not injure or even kill innocents caught up in Vithvarandi's little game. He was marched across the shabby intersection that formed the center of the town to a small building, one that consisted of just three dingy cells with iron bar fronts. The guards didn't even bother to check for knives other than the one he had been holding, which had been confiscated. They left him there.

Ember wasn't particularly bothered by that. Vithvarandi wasn't getting out of this town undetected, even if he was delayed by breaking out of this jail. This wooden jail. She had meant to send a message, and possibly get him to consider just giving up, not to seriously hinder him. There was no chance of that. If anything, his resolve was stronger now.

The door to the jail opened, and the woman who had pointed him out to the guards slipped in, closing it behind her. Her face was pale, but she walked confidently, coming to stand on the other side of the bars.

Ember stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She had some reason for this.

"Why are you here?" Her voice betrayed her uncertainty. "Malin has never harmed or wronged anyone."

"I'm sure she hasn't." Ember laughed sadly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"What loss?" Jacin said quickly, confused. "None of this makes any sense. My sister never leaves town, but a few days ago she told me a teenager with a prosthetic leg and green eyes wanted to kill her. I thought she was being paranoid, but then you show up."

Ember stared at his palms, slightly saddened by having to be the one delivering the news. "Your sister is gone, Jacin. The one who has taken her place is who I am hunting."

"She's not gone. You spoke to her not half an hour ago." Jacin eyed him suspiciously. "Are you crazy?"

"No." Ember showed her his palms. "See these scars? They are marks. Have you noticed them on her hands recently?"

He knew she had seen them when she refused to meet his eyes. "Yes, I have. She said she cut herself by accident..."

"Six times, at perfect right angles, matching on each hand," Ember said dryly. "Sure."

"Okay, then what are they marks of?" Jacin countered.

"How to explain this..." Ember mused darkly. "Suffice to say, they are the outward sign of a morbid form of immortality. Your sister is dead, and a monster has stolen her body and memories."

Jacin blinked. "You are crazy."

"I am very tired of being told that." Ember retorted. "What I have said is the absolute truth."

"Which, by your own logic makes you just as much of a monster." Jacin pointed out lightly, clearly convinced he was lying.

"No, it gives me the capability to be one if I wanted. I choose not to be, and that makes all the difference." Ember growled. "I'll avenge your sister, just as I will my mate and the countless others she's slaughtered. My sons are helping."

"You can't be a day over sixteen." Jacin pointed out.

"In this body." Ember retorted, standing and approaching the bars. "Look, I don't really care what you believe. But you at least deserve to know what happened to your sister, so I told you. Whether or not you take it as truth isn't my concern." He pulled a knife out of its sheath and began attempting to pick the lock on the other side of the bars.

Jacin watched him impassively. "You think I'm just going to let you escape?" She grabbed the knife from Ember's strained grip and set it next to the other that had already been confiscated.

He laughed darkly. "No, but I figured it was polite to try to leave in a way that didn't trash the place first." He needed to stop wasting time, but trashing the wall and busting out that way might bring the whole building down. Besides, he had an idea he wanted to try. This was a perfect time.

Ember stuck his hands in between two of the sturdy iron bars, mentally preparing himself. The fires of transformation didn't seem to follow the normal rules of fire. They had substance, pushed any mass they came into contact with, far more powerfully than he could. Transforming took several seconds. With all of that in mind, he triggered his transformation to his Night Fury form and immediately began to push at the bars.

The flames came from his palms and immediately put an immense amount of force into repelling the mass he was in contact with. As his form bent and shifted, he managed to _bend_ the iron bars apart, a groaning screech accompanying the displacement. It was an odd feeling, the borrowed force of the flames giving the illusion of him bending iron like warm wax, only the barest resistance felt through the fire. He immediately shifted back afterward.

The bars were now so bent as to form no barrier whatsoever, a large gap in the middle more than wide enough for him to slip through. Jacin was staring, pale and wide-eyed, shaking in fear. He stepped through the bars and quickly retrieved his daggers, keeping them out.

Before he left Jacin darted to stand in front of him, still obviously terrified. "But my sister isn't… whatever you're saying!"

"Aside from the scars," Ember said calmly, "I'm sure she's acting a bit different. She remembers everything, but does she act like she would? Have her priorities abruptly changed? Her opinion of certain people?" Vithvarandi might understand the life of the one she was impersonating, might remember it, but that didn't mean she would make the same decisions. It was still her ammoral personality playing a part.

"Well…" Jacin shook her head in denial. "She's just a little paranoid… now…" Her voice trailed off.

"I'm betting," Ember pushed, "that she's also not caring about other people now, And she's a bit less empathetic in general, right?" Maybe Vithvarandi was good enough to fake that, but Ember was betting not. He had seen those traits in her impersonation of Stoick. It would never be enough to think something was wrong, if one did not know Vithvarandi existed, but once that possibility was raised…

"Why?" Jacin blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek. It seemed she had finally accepted the truth. "I thought she was just acting strange… but she's not herself anymore?" A pause. "Can I get her back?"

"I am truly sorry. If we had succeeded in killing her earlier, you would not have lost her." Ember bowed his head. "But that thing out there is no longer your sister, and would likely have killed you before she moved on."

Jacin stuck a hand out, grabbing one of his knives. He let her take it, intrigued as to what she planned on doing with it.

"I'll get vengeance myself." She gritted out, her face cold.

"You didn't strike me as the type," Ember responded. Hadn't she been mourning a second ago?

"My sister is dead, and some creep is impersonating her. I'll manage."

"I understand that." He recalled having Beryl shoot Vithvarandi when she was impersonating Stoick and the hot rage that had descended on him immediately after. "But she is too dangerous. Killing her in one form just knocks her into another."

"I'll risk it," Jacin said, her eyes as cold as her face. "Besides. You need my help to find her quickly."

"Lead the way." Ember gestured towards the door, handing her his other knife and drawing two more. "Best to be fully armed."

Jacin strode quickly out, concealing the knife under her cloak. Ember moved carefully, sticking to the darkest parts of the village, avoiding the flickering torches. He followed Jacin, who brought him to a nondescript house in the middle of a row of similar houses and quietly unlocked the door.

He entered behind Jacin, quickly moving to place his back to a wall. There were muffled noises from the other room.

Jacin moved over and stuck her head through the doorway. "Malin?" Her voice was calm, though Ember could see her hands shaking, clutching his daggers. "What are you doing?"

Vithvarandi responded from the other room. "Packing. That boy will come after me, and I don't want to be around when he does."

"Why is he after you? You never told me."

"I wish I knew. But he is." Vithvarandi was a very good actor, but it was clear to Ember that Jacin wasn't buying it. Maybe she could tell now that something was slightly off, like he had with Stoick.

"Well, I'll come with you," Jacin said.

"No! I need you... safe, here. Not chased by some crazy murderer." Vithvarandi's voice had faltered.

"Fine." Jacin grimaced at Ember, her eyes cold and dead with grief. "At least come and say goodbye."

Vithvarandi walked into view and hugged Jacin. "Goodbye, sister."

Jacin whispered in the imposter's ear. "Goodbye, monster." Then the daggers she held in her hands were driven into Vithvarandi's upper back, one on either side of her spine. Vithvarandi's gasped in shock, falling back.

Jacin scowled at her, eyes brimming with tears. "You might look like her, talk like her, remember her, but you are not her. It's obvious, now that I know to look."

Vithvarandi crumbled into that familiar pile of black ash.

Ember sprung into action, a knife whipping out even as Vithvarandi's next form materialized. It took the male Viking in the chest, and he too crumbled into ash.

In the brief respite that granted, Ember yelled at Jacin. "Get out of here if you want to survive this!"

Jacin eyed him coldly. "I don't." She hefted both knives. "My sister was all I had left. This is as good a way to go as any."

There was no time to argue. Vithvarandi's next form was a Gronckle, which slammed through a flimsy table in a rush to get at them, to crush them under its bulk. Jacin clumsily stumbled out of the way, ineffectively slashing at the dragon's rock-like hide as it passed.

Ember had no time to shift forms completely, but he wasn't planning on it. The ability to change forms was powerful, but he was coming to realize the flames that accomplished that shift were useful in their own right if used correctly. He triggered the transformation and slammed both hands out in front of him, flames flooding from them just as the Gronckle made contact. Far from crushing him, it felt like he hadn't even hit it. Vithvarandi staggered back, clearly concussed by the unnaturally powerful blow. Ember snarled at her in his draconic form, firing a tiny plasma blast directly into her eye. The small explosion was followed by a deep bellow of agony.

Vithvarandi charged again, this time shifting as she did, clearly intending to use the same trick he had just stopped her with. Ember rolled to the side, barely avoiding the mass of black flames that smashed straight through the front of the house. The roll hurt his wings, splinters of wood digging at his scales and wing membrane, but the alternative would have been much worse.

He immediately shifted back to his human form, a smaller and nimbler shape in the trashed house, and pulled Jacin free of the wreckage. The house was groaning ominously, now deprived of what was probably a load-bearing wall.

Jacin stood unsteadily, bleeding slightly in a few places. Without speaking she began to run towards Vithvarandi, who was standing in the form of a somewhat small red Nadder.

Ember shifted, leaping and grabbing the Nadder's wing just before it could lunge and eviscerate Jacin. He felt responsible for the reckless woman. Suicidal was probably a better description of her behavior, to be honest. She stabbed the Nadder in the side, leaving his knife embedded there. Vithvarandi bucked, slamming Jacin to the ground as she freed herself from Ember's jaws, her wing edge dripping blood, scale and flesh hanging limply off from where his sharp teeth had torn them asunder.

Their fight was drawing attention. This time Ember was ready for the response. Before anyone could get a good look he shifted back to his human form and reengaged. It was like a twisted parody of dragon training so long ago. A woman fighting a Nadder alongside him, rushing in as he did. He jumped to the side as a Nadder spine slammed past him, embedding itself firmly into the ground where his feet had been. He needed to hold out a few more seconds...

Vithvarandi could tell something was off. She stopped, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

Ember grinned at her. "You forget. This isn't Berk."

Two heavy arrows slammed into Vithvarandi's side and she staggered, deeply wounded.

"They fight dragons here," Ember finished, stepping forward even as several Vikings he recognized from the tavern piled onto Vithvarandi, yelling and shouting drunkenly as they protected their village from the rampaging dragon. The shouts of surprise as her body collapsed into ash and was replaced with another Nadder were confused but angered. They took it in stride, immediately moving to take on the new Nadder.

"They're not going to remember this tomorrow," Ember remarked. Vithvarandi was overwhelmed by a good old-fashioned Viking beatdown, giving Ember and Jacin a moment to regroup. He looked over at Jacin, who was panting and staring at the fight.

"Will they kill her?"

"No," Ember replied, seeing Vithvarandi preparing to flee, her eyes wild with fear. "But to follow means you'll need to ride. My sons and I can finish her."

"No way am I letting her go," Jacin replied, staring at Ember. "I'm going, no matter what."

"Then get on!" Ember snarled, shifting forms as he saw Vithvarandi do the same, throwing off the aggressive Vikings to flee. He flicked his head back at his back, clearly giving her permission.

Jacin nodded abruptly, her eyes still devoid of any emotion save cold rage, and clumsily jumped on, her arms around his neck. He set off into the sky before any of the nearby villagers could react to his new form, before they could attack. Vithvarandi, now in the body of a larger green Zippleback, fled the village by air, flying with speed likely born of pure fear.

Ember roared powerfully, the call to hunt, to pursue prey. It felt appropriate. Vithvarandi was truly the prey now. His sons fell in on either side of him, the three of them tailing the Zippleback. This was a hunt, nothing more. Extremely intelligent and devious prey, and a deadly fight at the end, but still just a hunt, with his sons aiding. The dark night sky replaced forest, flight replaced stealthy running. Vithvarandi took the place of the prey, and the hunters remained in their element.

"Who is the woman?" Beryl asked as they powered forward.

"A fellow victim, and an ally," Ember replied shortly. "This time will be the last. She can't have many more forms. We've killed so many, and she hasn't had much of a chance to rebuild her twisted stock."

"Yes," Spark agreed. "We will avenge Dam."

"Avenge everyone she's ever killed," Beryl added.

"End this nightmare." Was Ember's contribution, said coldly. "Once and for all."

One last hunt. The prey was tiring, its trail clear as it struggled to put distance between it and the hunters. The stars blinked as the prey crossed in front of them, a two-headed silhouette blackening the night sky with her presence.

The two heads reminded Ember of what Vithvarandi had claimed. What would it be like, a prisoner inside one's own body and mind? Maybe what his two sides had done, merging so seamlessly, was not normal. But who could define normal in this case? There were only two of them, with two different outcomes to personalities merging. Maybe it would be different for every single pair of individuals forced to coexist like this. They'd never know because there were only two of them in existence.

Soon to be one, if Ember had anything to say about it.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **Next chapter is the finale of this story. Final predictions should be put out now, as there are only two chapters, an epilogue and… something… else left before we move on to** _ **When Nothing Remains.**_

 __ **In response to the guest reviewer _SisterofNight,_ who has been catching up: Really, you were told of the symbolism? Glad to hear you like it. It's always nice when someone who's new to the story reviews as they catch up.**


	19. Cauterization

_**Author's Note:**_ **Surprise update, posted as the clock ticks over to the very end of the week. I decided, given the cliffhanger-esque nature of the epilogue and prologue coming up, that it would be a bit much to leave the rest of this story hanging for several more weeks. (Also, I'm really excited for** _ **When Nothing Remains**_ **which is super far ahead even in being beta-read, so there is also that). So here is the finale, jumping out of the darkness days before anyone expected.**

A lone Zippleback fled frantically, its wings beating the air as if its life depended on speed. More specifically, outflying its pursuers. Anyone could have told her it was pointless, and she knew it. No Zippleback was capable of outflying three Night Furies. Especially three angry, vengeful Night Furies, in the middle of the night, with no cover.

But, Ember thought smugly, she probably didn't have any better options. He'd seen several Nadders, much faster dragons, killed by the small town's men moments ago. She likely didn't have anything faster or was saving it for a truly final resort.

That thought tugged at something in his mind, some trail of logic left unfollowed, like a single string hanging off of a knot, tempting but inconsequential when one didn't need to solve the knot, but burn through it. He ignored it, intent on the fact that the Zippleback was tiring, slowing down. They were getting closer, despite its initial headstart as the Furies grouped together and reoriented to follow it above the village.

Spark pushed forward a bit faster, plasma building in his throat. He fired with a growl, a plasma blast speeding across the distance in an instant, detonating against the Zippleback's wing. Vithvarandi dropped like a stone, her ruined wing sending her into an uncontrollable dive, towards the rocky terrain below. Her body skimmed against the side of a gorge, a trail of scales and blood left as it dropped to the bottom, twitching feebly.

The three Furies dove in pursuit, setting down on three sides. Facing the dying Zippleback, aware that these were the last moments before what would hopefully be the final battle. The prey was trapped. Now all that remained was to put it out of its misery.

Jacin slid off of Ember's back. She eyed the Furies to either side suspiciously. "Are you all..?"

The intended question was clear. Ember shook his head. They were not all monstrosities that should not exist. Only himself and Vithvarandi.

Jacin shrugged. "Well, any ally at a time like this." She held her borrowed knives up, glaring at the Zippleback. It had just begun to crumble into ash. They had only a few seconds.

"This ends now," Beryl growled.

A familiar form greeted them as the ash settled. A Snaptrapper that was down a head. It immediately lunged for Beryl, only to find a knife through one neck, and two sets of powerful jaws crushing and puncturing the other two, while Beryl savaged the place where the necks met the torso, tearing at Vithvarandi's spines. It died quickly, replaced by an undersized Nightmare.

The fight continued, moving through Vithvarandi's dregs. Jacin barely held her own, attacking with a ferocity that matched Spark and Beryl, striking while the Furies distracted. She was still cold, fighting with a rage that didn't make her reckless now, unlike back in the village.

Really, the entire situation made them all cautious. There was a feeling in the air, one of danger. Not the danger of fighting a pseudo-immortal monster. That was old for most of them, though this was Spark's first time. He fought with a fury Ember did not doubt was drawn from remembering his Dam's death. The training Ember had given Beryl and Spark so long ago made itself known, and they worked together naturally, including Jacin and Ember in their joint maneuvers whenever the situation allowed it, never giving Vithvarandi a moment's respite between them.

No, there was something else in the air this time. The gorge they had landed in was lit by the moon, a place of unyielding walls, a trap. The Furies all refrained from using their shots. As long as they had their firepower, no form of Vithvarandi's could leave the gorge alive. Any attempt to flee would simply result in one less body.

An attempt to flee as a blue Terrible Terror was stopped by virtue of a plasma blast so powerful it slammed the smoking body of the Terror into the side of the gorge before it disintegrated, Vithvarandi showing up as an odd dragon none of them recognized in their midst.

The fight paused for a single moment as the Furies racked their minds in an attempt to recognize Vithvarandi's newest form. It was large, green, and had a massive stomach, along with a large neck and odd head. It didn't even look like it could walk.

Couldn't walk. Ember glanced down at the dragon's feet, seeing webbed toes. Was Vithvarandi that close to out of bodies, that she had resorted to a sea-dwelling body... at the bottom of a bone-dry gorge?

Any doubts the combatants might have had about the effectiveness of a water dragon in this fight were quickly silenced by a blast of boiling-hot water, one that nearly got Spark, the yellow-scaled dragon leaping out of the way just in time. The boiling water splashed over all of them, painful to the dragons...

And agonizing for Jacin, who screamed and collapsed even as the water hit her, the pain too much to stand. Beryl quickly dragged her out of the still steaming pool of water while Spark and Ember made sure Vithvarandi wouldn't be following that attack up.

Ember tore into the flabby side of the dragon Vithvarandi was currently inhabiting, grimly happy to see that it was very lightly scaled, large but not at all tough. It collapsed into ash quite quickly, though he had not done any fatal damage, so Spark must have dealt the final blow. That was good. It was one less body he had to take from Vithvarandi. Over the course of their last few battles, he'd acquired a few more forms from her, involuntarily as they fought, forced to fight to kill despite not wanting to take anything for himself. He had no desire to take any more. In truth, each new form they faced sickened him a little more, proof of just how monstrous Vithvarandi was. It was all well and good for her to speak of conflicting personalities, but these bodies were proof of a mass-murderer, someone who has killed dozens. Even the excuse of ensuring immortality couldn't excuse taking this many bodies. She seemed to be a twisted collector, keeping one of everything just in case it turned out to be useful, or as a last resort.

That knot with the loose string at the back of his head bothered him, and he again ignored it. There was no need for deep thought or logic now. The time for thinking was past. Now was time for action to back up prior decisions.

A third force slammed into Vithvarandi's current form. Beryl was back in the fight. But by the way he attacked, a new level of rage inherent in his roars and flashing claws, the news was not good. That water had been so hot, and it had hit Jacin hard. She might not be dead, but she was definitely out of the fight.

Vithvarandi was given no time to gloat, to bask in the knowledge that she'd managed to defeat one of those intent on killing her, even if it was the weakest of the four, even if the other three were still very much there and bent on her death. They attacked with all the ferocity their species was known for, feared for. No opening was left unexploited, no weakness unattacked. Black ash was beginning to coat the bottom of the gorge, flying off of their bloodstained paws as they lifted their weary legs once more to cut and tear with claws slowly dulling against a never-ending tide of scale and skin.

Attrition favored Vithvarandi. At least, it had. But by the increased frenzy in which she fought, the truly desperate way she lashed out, it might not favor her so heavily anymore. After a particularly easy kill, the ashes cleared to reveal...

Everything stopped.

Ember cursed that taunting thread in his mind, the conclusion he had chosen not to pursue, deeming it unimportant. It was so obvious, in retrospect. He should have expected it, planned for it, prepared himself to deal with it.

Maybe, subconsciously, he did know. Thinking back, back to those terrible dreams that had never truly faded, he saw what had to happen now. No matter if it felt he'd be tearing what tattered soul his combined personalities still possessed to shreds in the process.

He looked to either side. Beryl was to his left. It was clear that his younger son was in no condition to do what needed to be done. Eyes wide, pupils fluctuating between the rage he must know was still the appropriate emotion, and something softer, sadder. Heartbroken, knowing that what he saw was a mockery, but unable to strike at it all the same. The look on his son's face reminded Ember of that moment back on Berk, when he had comforted his son, who grieved for the Sire he lost, seeing him but at the time knowing that it was not truly Ember, what he saw, but a sad image forced upon both the host and the subject. This was worse, if at all possible, infinitely worse. And Beryl was sound of mind and heart.

Spark, on the other hand, was nowhere near as hardened and experienced. He was whining, clearly overwhelmed by what he saw. Much like Beryl had been back in the deep and unnatural caverns even further back in time, back when Hiccup had been dying, and a monster assumed his Sire's dead form in order to kill him and add him to her morbid collection. Deprived of any will to resist whatsoever, though Beryl had regained a bit of his will through the need to protect his human friend. Spark had no such resort and was broken by this final ploy. There would be no aid from him, and no aid from Beryl. Ember couldn't ask it of them, even if they had been capable of doing what needed to be done, if they had not been so clearly disarmed by this.

It was his duty, his responsibility, to bear the pain neither of them could or should be asked to shoulder. Even if it felt like tearing his own heart out. He knew it needed to be done, that he could not hesitate any longer.

But the heart is a powerful thing, and his was rebelling. Memories flooded his mind, ones he had always thought would offer comfort in times of need. Now they opposed him.

 _The female was still there waiting curiously. She sniffed the air, purring. "That is good. For me?"_

 _"Yes." He dropped the deer. "For you."_

 _"Yes. It is lonely." She moved closer. "Can we... travel together?"_

 _She grinned, a feral expression that had a dark undertone. "Perfect. Flint."_

 _He spoke. "They can fly now."_

 _"Yes." She purred. "Ready to take that trip?"_

 _"Almost." Ember laughed. "But we should go soon. Otherwise, we might have a third egg to wait for."_

 _Flint slapped him with her tail. "Control yourself. We can wait. Although I do want a girl."_

A thousand fond memories held his fire, constrained his claws and teeth. He couldn't do it. Ember or Hiccup, it didn't matter, for they were one. They could not kill Flint, not even if she was there only in appearance, harboring a desperate monster. That little shred of soul they clung to was all they had left. Tearing into her and killing her like in that all too accurate dream would damn them, damn this hybrid mind and soul he had created. The alternative was too terrible to comprehend, but he couldn't avert it.

Vithvarandi cowered there in the body of Flint, likely vaguely aware that it had some sentimental value to all three of them. She didn't move, either to flee or attack, as if that would break the hold this final resort had on her executioners.

She was beautiful, even knowing what lurked behind her sharp grey eyes. A vision from a kinder past, one of love and happiness for Ember, of safety and comfort for Beryl and Spark. How could they attack that? Knowledge was a poor substitute for what existed in front of them, here and now.

Vithvarandi shifted, slowly staring at each of them in turn. Her eyes were wide and fearful, though whether the fear was still pure and genuine was unknowable.

To Ember, it felt like watching an avalanche, and knowing he was powerless to stop it. Something was going to happen, but he couldn't force himself to attack, to end it. Would she fly off, escaping to live and fight another day? They'd be unable to stop her if she possessed a body none of them could make themselves attack.

That would be the smart move, the only one that ensured she got what she wanted. But Ember saw a glint in his mate's eyes, one that didn't belong on her face. Vithvarandi might be logical, but she wasn't the most stable. There was another path she could take. It all fell to one thing. Just how compulsive was she in collecting bodies to inhabit? Because her collection was gone, and it just so happened that there were three of the most coveted dragons in the archipelago right in front of her.

He watched in helpless paralysis as she eyed Spark. It happened in a moment, one that seemed to stretch out forever. It had only been a few seconds since the ash had cleared to reveal Vithvarandi's final gambit. Time seemed to lurch back into motion, unable to slow itself any longer.

Vithvarandi leaped on top of Spark, clawing into his wings and kicking at his head, scrabbling to reach his throat even as she was blocked by her overshot, tearing into his wings. It was a scene worse than any nightmare Ember could have conjured up, the twisted depths of his mind incapable of contemplating such an image. It accomplished what no amount of reason, logic, or knowledge could. He prepared to leap and dislodge Vithvarandi before she succeeded in cutting his son's throat.

Because no matter how much she looked like Flint, the image of her attacking Spark dispelled any resemblance in Ember's mind. The two could not coexist. It dispelled any reluctance he had to attack, though he knew his actions in doing so would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But before he could spring into attack, reenact that horrible scene that had plagued him in his nightmares, an explosive plasma blast detonated against the other side of Flint's head, knocking her off of Spark. She hit the rock wall of the gorge at an awkward angle, a loud snap echoing in the night. Her stocky neck was bent at an odd angle.

The body of the one he loved slowly faded away into just another pile of black ash.

Beryl stepped forward, his eyes downcast. "You carry enough of this pain. I'll take up the rest."

Ember resolved to deal with what had just happened... after they finished dealing with Vithvarandi. Who was standing up, this time in the body of a frail old woman.

"Protect Spark." Ember snarled. "I'll end Vithvarandi."

Vithvarandi sneered, speaking for the first time since they had ended up in the gorge. Her voice was old and frail, but somehow more venomous than ever before. "You will end nothing."

"Confident words from one on their last legs, hopefully literally." Ember retorted, building up a plasma blast in the back of his throat. As he did, a thought occurred to him. All of Vithvarandi's prior forms had been at most middle-aged. It made sense, given she wouldn't bother taking old bodies that would soon expire anyway. She had also said that her first kill, the one who had somehow made all of this possible, was much older. Was it possible this was the body of the one that was truly responsible for everything?

"I am immortal," Vithvarandi replied calmly. "There is nothing you can do to change that." There was an odd quaver to her tone under the calm, one that made Ember's hackles rise.

"Pretty sure you can be killed." Ember retorted, wondering just how much of a grip on reality Vithvarandi still held. "You yourself were afraid of that once when I took a form from you. So clearly, you don't believe yourself truly immortal any more than I do."

"You will not kill me," Vithvarandi stated carefully. "Up until now, you've been depriving me of bodies. I have yet to see you truly kill, and that is what this would be. If memory serves, you will not take a life."

Ember didn't respond verbally. He simply blasted the old woman out of existence. Then he spoke. "I'll make an exception."

Those familiar ashes did not appear. The old woman's body remained, burned and blown partially apart, most of the upper torso simply missing. It was an anticlimactic end to such a terrible being, someone twisted beyond all morality or empathy.

Someone who might have been innocent, once. Who claimed that it was not truly her in control, but the one who had created this unnatural ability. Ember recalled that Vithvarandi had spoken of losing one's first acquired body, calling it a traumatic experience. He had seen many Vikings, but Vithvarandi had said that the original subject needed to be missing part of themselves. None of the Viking forms he had fought was an amputee or any such thing. By logic, Vithvarandi had at some point lost her original body completely, and therefore spoke from experience.

It would never be clear exactly what sequence of events created the twisted monster Vithvarandi had become. Likely there were many factors, all playing a part in stripping away all empathy and morality. He would have to be satisfied that he was not going to follow that path.

* * *

It was never supposed to go this far! Vithvarandi hated the stone walls around her almost as much as she hated the Night Furies and human fighting her.

Even him. She had no choice, so he would be hers, but at the moment she hated him.

He was doing the right thing.

No, he was running from the truth! They were meant to be together, the only two immortals in a world of fleeting failures.

But she had chosen him, without asking, forced him into this life. He had not wanted it.

Vithvarandi snarled wordlessly as the fight continued. The loss of so many bodies, so many sets of secondary memory, was lessening the distance between her dominant personality and the one she had pushed away. It was becoming less and less ignorable. That was unacceptable.

But she needed it, needed to back off, to…

Something shifted, in that patch of memory. A set conclusion reached by those experiences vanished. It could not think, but the portion of Vithvarandi's mind still using it could, could see with the tint it cast on events.

Vithvarandi became uneasy with that shift. The dissenting portion of her mind had stopped dissenting. That was good, but why?

She lost her train of thought as a desperate choice of bodies bore fruit, even as she died yet again. That was the human gone, probably dying even now.

She should try and take the body. It was a powerful urge, far beyond what she usually felt. And it did not come from her dominant perception.

Had her minority perception really changed that much, that fast? That could not be possible, and Vithvarandi saw no apparent catalyst for such an impossible shift. Still, it was good.

That was her internal problems solved, though she could not take the human's body, as she was a bit occupied. Her stock of bodies had dwindled…

A flash of shock ran through Vithvarandi's mind as she took mental stock of what she had left. Almost nothing. The only bodies of particular significance were either for flight, her final, desperate escape… or...

Her true body. The one belonging to her dominant personality. That old, withered human. It was worthless. There was a reason she had strove, so long and so hard, for this. Had sacrificed dozens to failed trials, dabbled in the sciences banned by the majority, crossed the lines between what the uninformed called science and magic. There was no difference, there never had been. When her world crumbled centuries later, and in the following generations became as if it never existed, even knowledge that there was such a thing as science vanished. Magic was all that remained, and those who did not see the divide no longer existed. She had been the last… and millennia of not using those skills had destroyed even that in her mind. She was no longer capable of doing what she had done so long ago. That part of her had been forgotten.

Escape. She looked around, even as her remaining bodies dwindled. There was no way out, and now she only had five bodies. Five!

Four. How had it come to this? There had to be a way out.

Three. Something felt off. It was so strange. She-

Two. The last escape, and her worthless self. She immediately chose the escape, vaguely noting that it held some sentimental value for… all three of her attackers, actually. That was useful. Now that she only had its memories to pick through aside from her own dominant and lesser sets, that was clear.

A moment of still, of quiet. They weren't attacking. But Vithvarandi felt strange. What had she thought just a moment ago? Something about her lesser side.

Escape. She should fly away. They would not be able to kill her, not like this.

No, she needed to attack the golden one, the least angry. The least threatening.

Well, if her lesser side said that, it must be right. Vithvarandi leapt, scrabbling at the dragon's wings.

Wound, not kill. She needed to goad them.

What? Something about that felt wrong. But she did it anyway, not entirely sure why she was suddenly giving more weight to that side of her mind.

An impact, and one less body. She had succeeded in breaking through their reluctance to strike. Now…

Vithvarandi found herself ranting, saying things she didn't believe, things both sides of her knew to be false. She was not immortal, not now! What was she saying?  
She was playing the part, the part of a monster that needed to be destroyed. Her victims seemed sure of their actions, but she couldn't let that rest on chance. She needed to be destroyed.

In that last moment, Vithvarandi's dominant side reasserted itself and comprehended what had changed, even as she finished asserting that the one in front of her could not kill in cold blood, something she could see disproven in his eyes even as she spoke.

Her lesser side had gained precedence because she had no more memories to block it out with, as her bodies dwindled. But she had let it because it had seemed to agree with her for once.

The thing that had changed? The lesser side had always wanted to survive. That was its driving force, why the woman it had belonged to had volunteered for Vithvarandi's tests, knowing they were dangerous. The woman dying to an incurable disease, who had already lost an arm to it. Something so complex and dangerous that even the advanced science of the day could not cure or even slow it. That woman had survived by chance, after discovering the stabilizing act… by killing Vithvarandi, to stop her from dooming more people with her tests. When the host's body had succumbed to the disease, it had been easy for Vithvarandi's memories to take over.

But now, the host's memories had judged the situation differently. They no longer wanted to live. Not as the monster they had become.

So when that side of thought took over, it did its best to ensure their attackers would not hesitate, would kill. She had played the part of dangerous and insane, in these final moments.

By the time she had fully comprehended that, the plasma blast had already left Ember's throat.

* * *

Ember turned his mind to other things, despairing of ever truly understanding Vithvarandi. Spark. He quickly loped to his son's side, taking in the damage as he approached.

Spark was lying on his stomach, wings outstretched at his sides. The damage was severe. His wing membrane was cut in a dozen places, long stripes dividing and tattering the once-taunt wings, blood leaking from where veins in the wings had been cut. Not enough was being lost to kill Spark through blood loss, but the damage...

He moved into Spark's view, nuzzling his son's forehead sadly. Spark's vacant and pained eyes spoke of more damage than what could be seen. Ember looked up at Beryl, who was staring helplessly at the ruined wings his brother now possessed.

"Is Jacin..?" Ember asked carefully.

"Alive, but unconscious," Beryl replied quickly. He gestured with a wing. "From the pain, I assume. She's not bleeding. It's Spark I'm worried about."

"Spark." Ember nudged his son's head, trying to elicit some sort of response. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" There might be damage they couldn't see, broken bones or similarly subtle issues.

"My heart." Spark replied dully. "I will never fly again." There was a dull despair in those words. "Dam made sure of that."

Ember snarled dangerously. "That _monster_ was not your Dam. She was simply using her body to try and escape."

"Beryl killed her, to save me." Spark mused, not seeming to hear Ember.

"I killed Vithvarandi, and avenged our Dam at the same time," Beryl replied, moving into Spark's view. "Dam would never attack you."

"I know..." Spark admitted, surprising both of the other Furies. "But it still hurts, what I saw."

"It does," Ember said soothingly. "But it was not truly real. You understand that. No more real than your nightmares."

"My nightmares never crippled me." Spark retorted, a flash of anger the first undulled emotion he had displayed. "This did."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ember growled. He immediately shifted to his human form and put away the knives it still held. In their place he dug something out of a small pocket, one he had created so long ago, one for emergencies. What had he told Gobber?

 _'I've also added a few pockets for things like a needle and thread, in case Toothless's tailfin tears...'_

Gods, he hoped he'd thought to actually put those in that pocket so long ago. He stuck his hand in hastily, jabbing himself with the mercifully present needle in the process. He couldn't care less. Dripping blood, he fumbled the tools out quickly, moving over to Spark's left wing.

"Beryl, tell Spark I can help his wings, but it will hurt. He has to hold still." Ember knew Spark didn't understand him in this form.

Beryl relayed the message. Spark glanced back at Ember with dubious hope, as if afraid to let his hopes rise just to have them shot down once more. "Okay," he finally said, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Ember selected a tear at random, considering how best to do this. He began carefully sewing the two limp shreds of the wing together, wincing at each involuntary gasp Spark let out. The wings were sensitive, and driving a needle through the membrane repeatedly must hurt like nothing else.

It felt like driving a needle into himself, listening to the pained noises Spark couldn't restrain, but he didn't stop. Slowly, the tattered shreds began to regain something of their previous shape, held together by the thread. Hopefully, the membranes would heal back together, and Spark would not be grounded permanently.

At some point during the long and painstaking process, Jacin woke up. He could not go to help her, absorbed in the task in front of him, but Beryl went to her. Ember heard Jacin protesting as Beryl licked her burns. The protests faded as Jacin began to realize, as Ember had so long ago, that Night Fury saliva seemed to numb pain somewhat. After a while, she came over, watching Ember quietly. At length, she spoke.

"It's over?"

"Yes." He replied, wincing tiredly at Spark's groan as he pushed the needle through the sensitive membrane. "She's dead, for good."

"I do have questions," Jacin stated, as if unsure Ember would answer.

"Such as?"

"You're human... sometimes... but what are they?" Jacin pointed at Beryl. "Dragons are-"

"People, like you. There's a reason Vithvarandi could only take the forms of humans and dragons. The victim has to be capable of intelligent thought."

"That makes a little bit of sense," Jacin said slowly. "At least, compared to everything else."

"I've finally found a fast way to get people to understand." Ember mused bitterly. "Just show them something even more ridiculous first."

"Now what?" Jacin asked abruptly. "She's gone. And so is my sister."

"I am sorry," Ember said sadly. "Your sister joins my father, my mate, and their mother among those Vithvarandi killed. We have avenged them... and now we have to try and move on."

Ember quickly sewed the last rent in Spark's wings together, glad to be done with the torturous process. He scratched Spark's back. "You're good now." Beryl relayed the message, and Spark groaned in acknowledgment, carefully folding his wings into a more natural position.

A thought struck Ember, more of a resolution he'd recently decided on. "I'm going to start by putting some things to rest." He turned to Beryl. "Buddy, I need you to do something for me. You're not going to like it."

"What is it?"

"I have forms taken from Vithvarandi. Several, in fact. I want them gone, out of my head. They aren't mine, and I won't keep them."

"So..."

"I want you to kill them. I'll bring them up, and you... get rid of them." Ember proposed. It wasn't going to be fun at all, for either of them, but it needed to be done. He would not be a monster like Vithvarandi, and this was a way to stick to that conviction.

"...Fine." Beryl acquiesced. "But I'm making it as quick as possible."

"I'd prefer it that way," Ember smirked. "Remembering one painful death is enough." He shifted to the first other form that came to mind, that of Stormfly.

Beryl hesitated, shifting his weight from paw to paw uncertainly.

"Please, help me rid myself of these bodies. I don't want to be like her." Ember pleaded.

Beryl reluctantly built up a powerful plasma blast, and the last thing Ember saw was the purple glow, a short flash of intense pain all he felt.

This was the first time he'd lost a body. It turned out to be quite jarring, a moment of panic that had him almost involuntarily picking another form and mercifully fading back into the world. The body he'd picked happened to be that of the Terror he'd stabbed while fighting on Berk, that terrible night.

"This one too?" Beryl asked.

"All but my own bodies. Hiccup and Ember." Ember confirmed. Another purple blast, another moment of panic. The memory flood he was expecting did not occur, though he could feel it building up, held back by his will for the time it took for Beryl to banish that body. Then the memory dissipated as if it had never been there.

They continued, ridding Ember of every extra body, all of the half-dozen or so that he had taken involuntarily. It was an unpleasant process, and the black ash made him feel sick, but when it was done Ember felt better, freer. Knowing he didn't have them anymore was a relief of a burden he hadn't been aware he was carrying. The numerous small and not-so-small wounds on his draconic form were a small thing, even when he switched back from the last uninjured dragon, experiencing the immediate drain of energy and influx of dull pain his body had been feeling.

None of them had escaped the fight unscathed, but only Spark and Jacin had taken serious injuries. Ember and Beryl would only add to their collection of scars. Ember mused ruefully that the scars littering his body mostly came from Vithvarandi, but the worst did not exist. Those would be the scars one would expect from her tearing his chest and throat apart as a Whispering Death all those years ago. There were no scars from that because it had killed him. Apparently, any damage dealt in the process of killing was not retained. Which made sense, because otherwise every body Vithvarandi had obtained would be fatally wounded and just die immediately.

Spark shuffled up to Ember, moving stiltedly, still in obvious pain. "Sire, what do we do now?"

Ember considered the question, moving closer to Spark and nudging his older son comfortingly. "Your wings will heal in time. Until then, we'll find somewhere to recover, somewhere safe." He hoped they'd heal. Memory provided examples of small cuts in wing membrane healing well enough, but this was so severe. Hopefully, the stitches would make it possible.

He looked around the gorge, sight landing on a slope just shallow enough to be traversed by feet, a way out on foot. "We may as well go."

The three injured Furies made their way out of the gorge on foot, trailed by Jacin, who began to make her way back towards her small village without another word.

Ember didn't mind that. He was sure she would not remember them fondly, as tied to death and destruction as her memories of them would be. She needed to figure out how to deal with the loss of her sister. That was something he could not help with.

Vithvarandi was dead. It was fitting, in his mind, that they'd left her corpse at the bottom of the gorge, among the dust of countless of her victims, left to rot. Let no one remember the monster, the one responsible for so much despair and desolation.

 _ **Author's Notes:**_ **A reviewer asked me if the addition of Ember's memories would ever bring Hiccup to the point where he could/would do something he would have seen as evil or immoral. The answer here is yes, and he's changed to the point where it doesn't even bother him. Killing off an unarmed old woman with absolutely no hesitation in cold blood, no matter what lurked beneath that appearance? Not something canon Hiccup could do easily, if at all.**

 **And now, with her death, I answer a question. Vithvarandi. What is that name from? I would like to point out that if you enter it into Google, you will only find this story. Literally. That's all that comes up. But I did not come up with it. It is actually the English spelling of** **viðvarandi. The Icelandic word for persistence, or persists… which I would say is more than fitting, is it not?**

 **Next chapter? Look for it on Tuesday, to fit with this accelerated end. I will warn you though,** _ **When Nothing Remains**_ **is going to stick with a weekly format, also on Saturdays, so don't get too used to this quick chapter pacing.**


	20. Closure

_**Author's Note:**_ **Last chapter passed five thousand views overall for the story. A modest total compared to some of my other works, but that's fine. This story is a bit more out-there than any of my other works anyway.**

"Top o' the mornin', chief Astrid!" Gobber saluted with his hook hand, hurrying along to Astrid's side. He pulled a sheet of parchment from somewhere and began reading from it. "We've got a few things 'ere."

"Foreign news first." Astrid requested, still walking through the village. Her ax hung by her side, and a sky-blue cloak fluttered in the breeze after her. It was the color of Stormfly's scales, a memorial to her friend. It made her feel a little better, to think that her faithful companion still had her back, even if only in spirit.

"Well, the Berserkers are quite interested in, eh, the 'dragons broken to the saddle', I think it said in their letter. Their chief wants to meet to discuss trade, and maybe renegotiate the treaty."

Both of them saw what that truly meant, coming from the man so obviously crazy that he'd been named Dagur the Deranged, chief of the Berserkers.

"Tell him I'll meet him..." Astrid began, her voice cold. "If he comes to Berk with at most a single ship. Any more will be seen as breaking the treaty, an act of aggression." The subtle politics involved in chiefing had in some ways been the worst to learn, but after over a year, she had a handle on how to play the little games involved. It would not be breaking the treaty for Dagur to show up with his entire armada. Not with how the current treaty was written. By acting as if it was, Astrid was sending a message. The balance of power had shifted, and their agreements with the Berserkers would shift to reflect that. She was not going to give the Berserkers anything involving dragons. Not even if the dragons had been hers to give.

"Aye, I'll get on tha'..." Gobber muttered, marking a few notes in the margins of the parchment.

"Local issues?" Astrid prompted.

"Not much today. Some kids tippin' over yaks..."

"Put the Thorston twins on sentry duty for a week and see if it stops," Astrid said wryly. "They never change."

"Already did, actually. Though it was more as retribution for them paintin' me hook yellow." Gobber admitted, waving his now clean hook around for emphasis. "I don't know where they get these ideas."

"Who knows. Anything else?"

"Aye, there's some issues over at the memorial statues. An ongoing dispute between Bucket and a few of the engravers." Gobber sighed. "That one's likely to explode if it isn't dealt with soon."

Astrid agreed with that. Bucket was usually pretty mild-mannered, but when his artistic side was insulted, things got heated quite quickly. She changed direction, heading now towards the Great Hall, and the cliffside nearby where the construction was taking place.

As she moved through the village, she looked around proudly. The houses, now freed from the design constraints inherent in an ongoing war, were becoming more elaborate and colorful by the day, their occupants slowly realizing that effort put into the design would no longer be wasted when the house was inevitably destroyed in the conflict.

Some redesigns had indeed been necessary, such as making sure every house was stable enough to support several multi-ton dragons on the roof at any given time. A few collapses as support beams gave out after months of pressure had made sure they all understood the need for that. Many houses now had additions to the sides or in a few cases an additional floor. Those were made to accommodate the family dragons, and while not common were a familiar sight, large additions with oversized entrances. Vikings were crafty, and the lack of a war to fight had freed many of them to pursue woodcarving or stonecraft, secondary hobbies turned full-time occupations.

But Vikings were still Vikings, and no one could accuse the people of Berk of going soft. Tempers still flared, drunken brawls were as commonplace as ever, and the average Berkian could still fight like the best of them.

There was something more now, though. The Vikings of Berk freely interacted with the dragons in their midst. It had been something like this before, but once Fishlegs had cracked the language of their reptilian cohorts, the way Vikings treated the dragons had changed, if subtly. They were respected now, members of the village. Fishlegs had been quite insistent about that. Even though not many Vikings had managed to learn the language, or even wanted to, they all treated the dragons with respect. Fishlegs had told Astrid that most dragons shared the disinterest in learning on their side as well, so at least the interest was mutually lackluster.

She herself was trying to learn, though only able to pick out a few words so far, despite months of practice. Fishlegs had told her first-hand of the odd pain that seemed to be inherent in knowing both languages, but she would shoulder that and worse to be able to listen to both sides of her village, to hear every villager.

The Great Hall loomed into view as she rounded a corner. Stepping off the path, she and Gobber made their way up to the sheer mountainside by the side of the hall. There was a flurry of activity around it, scaffolding and pulleys lifting men and supplies up and down the area of work. There was also a near-inconsolable man with a bucket on his head sitting off to the side, alternating between scowling and frowning at the construction.

Astrid stepped into the man's line of sight. "What is it now, Bucket?"

"Those hacks are making Stoick's ears too big!" Bucket exclaimed. "I've painted him before, for the chiefly portraits. I know how big they should be."

Astrid took a moment to examine the half-finished carving, giving Bucket vague reassurances as she did. It was done in relief, and when it was finished it would have three figures. Stoick the Vast above and slightly behind Hiccup and Toothless. A monument to the great chief of Berk, and to the son that changed the way the world worked. A monument, though none knew it yet, that would rewrite history slightly. Astrid had already told the engravers what would be put below it. Stoick the Vast, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and Toothless. A brief history of their greatest achievements. At the very bottom, a lie.

Killed by a witch known as Vithvarandi.

It was not a lie in the case of Stoick, but it certainly was for the other two. She didn't really care. This was a way to preserve their legacy, to leave it untainted by uncertainty and unanswerable questions. Hiccup would not be remembered by future generations for his use of dark magic and disappearance. He would be remembered for his amazing accomplishments, the things he truly deserved to be known for.

It was her way of apologizing, in a way. She saw now that she could have treated him better, both before and after the events at the nest. Whether or not she liked him, her attitude could have been better.

She had not married, not yet. At the moment she didn't need the distraction. Leading the village was enough to keep her occupied, and would be for the foreseeable future. Truly, she had half a mind to remain unmarried and to pass on the chieftainship to whoever was the most worthy of the next generation. It made sense, and would hopefully set a precedent that would make Berk stronger in the future.

Something tickled the back of her mind, a warrior's instinct. She was being watched. She turned, half-expecting some sheepish villager waiting to get her attention, hoping for help with a problem of some embarrassing nature. That happened far more often than she would have guessed, back before becoming chief. Who knew how Stoick had handled it so discreetly.

Instead, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Vikings going about their business, dragons of all kinds going about theirs, a constant rainbow of color.

Then she saw it. A dragon that glinted in the noon sun, his scales a pale gold, eyes near white, large and expressive.

A Night Fury, one she'd definitely never seen before. There had not been a single Fury in the village since that violent night Hiccup and Toothless had left. Who was this?

She wished Fishlegs was around so that she could ask. But he was nowhere in sight, likely on the other side of the village.

The Night Fury shifted its gaze from Astrid to the half-finished memorial, its eyes wide and curious. It walked closer, ignoring the awed sounds its mere presence elicited from the amazed Vikings. After a few moments, it turned and faced Astrid, deliberately making eye contact. Then it slowly began walking towards the outskirts of the village.

The intent was clear. "Gobber..."

Gobber sighed, looking after the dragon that almost glowed in the sun. "Aye, I know. I'll go find Fishlegs, but somethin' tells me ye won't need 'im by the time he gets 'ere."

Astrid nodded absently before following the Fury. She caught up quickly, as it was walking slowly, and fell in alongside it.

It looked up at her, and she noticed an odd arrangement to the scales under its eyes. The eyes themselves were wide and friendly, but determined.

"Do you understand me?" Astrid asked, knowing the odds were low. Most dragons didn't.

No response. So clearly, asking questions was pointless. They reached the edge of the village, and the dragon unfolded his wings, their golden expanse glinting in the sun.

Astrid could see lines of silver breaking the solid gold. Mottling, natural discoloration? Or were they old scars? She wasn't sure.

The dragon nodded to his own back, craning his neck.

She hadn't ridden a dragon since Stormfly died, except the few times she needed to make an impression, generally riding standing on Barf and Belch's back, for dramatic effect. But her muscles remembered this, and she slung herself on fluidly. Almost perfectly, though her legs faltered at the lack of saddle.

The golden dragon lifted off, taking her soaring in spirals above Berk. It was a sight she never tired of, Berk from dragon-back. But at the moment, her mind was unsettled with too many questions to truly enjoy the view.

The dragon, on the other hand, had no problem whole-heartedly staring at Berk, wonder clear in his eyes.

Astrid laughed at that. Like a tourist...

Well, he was a tourist, a visitor. They definitely didn't have any permanent Fury residents.

After a few minutes of sightseeing, the dragon turned towards the back end of the island, angling towards a beach that was never used, so far from the village.

Astrid was only somewhat surprised to see two figures out of memory there, looking as if they had stepped out of the memorial to greet her. Hiccup looked as if he hadn't aged a day, though Toothless had several new scars. The two were both smiling, though Hiccup's smile had a sad edge to it.

Astrid slid off of the golden dragon, patting his head in thanks for the ride. She gestured to him as he ran over to stand on Hiccup's other side. "Made a new friend?"

Hiccup laughed. "Not quite. This is Spark, Beryl's older brother."

Right, he called Toothless Beryl now. That brought Astrid back to reality. "Why are you here?"

"A few reasons." Hiccup replied seriously. "For one thing, I thought you should know, Vithvarandi is dead. Well and truly dead."

"Good," Astrid nodded. "She was a threat."

"To all of us." Hiccup agreed. "Also, I have a few things for you, or more accurately for the village."

"Do you plan on delivering them yourself?" Astrid asked skeptically. "I'm really not sure how you'd be received by the people."

Hiccup smiled sadly. "No, I'm not. I have no place on Berk. Rest assured, this is just a visit to tie up loose ends." His smile became more genuine, and he casually tousled Spark's earplates. "And to let Spark get a look at Berk. He really wanted to see the place."

"I know, he acted just like most of our Viking visitors do," Astrid replied lightly. "Gawking at everything."

"Hey, I guess that proves you're doing a good job." Hiccup mused. "Do you still resent me handing the job to you?"

"No, not really. I was the best one for it."

"No argument here." Hiccup said, shaking his head. "From what Spark's been saying, you've done a great job. He heard talk that dragons are treated as equals now?"

"Yes, they are. Fishlegs figured the language out, and everything else just kind of naturally followed. It's not easy to learn though."

"Yeah, I did kind of get a shortcut." Hiccup looked up, his demeanor a bit less lighthearted, a bit more sorrowful. "Do many want to learn?"

"The important ones do. Kids, and me." Astrid replied, a bit embarrassed. "The kids ensure the next generation will know it, and I will be able to deal fairly with my own people without an interpreter. Though I can barely understand anything right now."

"Good, very good. Better than I'd hoped, to be honest." Hiccup pulled out two rectangular objects from a bag he wore over his leather armor. "One of these is for the village, and the other is for you."

"What are they?"

"Books. I had a lot of time to burn, while we waited for Spark's wings to heal." Hiccup smiled down at Spark, who warbled happily and nudged his side.

So those were scars, not natural marks. "What about?"

Hiccup tossed the books to Astrid, who deftly caught them. She looked them over. The cover of one was titled 'Ember', and the other 'Stormfly.'

Now she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Hiccup..."

"Works of fiction, written by an anonymous author." Hiccup said sadly. "So that there's no mention of magic, and no connection to the rumors I'm sure will circulate about me for centuries."

"Actually, I've made sure that part of your life will not be remembered," Astrid admitted. "According to the memorial, you and Toothless died alongside Stoick, to a witch by the name of Vithvarandi, who was never heard from again."

Hiccup chuckled, while Toothless actually looked insulted. "That's fine. I like it, actually. Anyway, the one called 'Ember' is for the village. It's pretty long, and it tells of a dragon called Ember, from hatching to death. It's not a happy ending, but I made it as accurate as I could." He blushed. "To a point. I do want kids to be able to read it. Some of the more private memories may have not made the cut."

Astrid looked at the book again, as if seeing it in a new light. "So... a true story."

"Toothless's father, and Spark's. Not that anyone would know the dragon named Beryl in the story would grow up to be the Toothless of legend."

"And the other..." Astrid mumbled, knowing what was inside the smaller tome.

"Everything I got from her, nothing left out whatsoever. It's not all nice, and I didn't soften it at all. I wrote what she saw, what she felt. I figured since she was killed before you ever got a chance to really know her, this was the least I could do."

"This is..." Astrid didn't know how she wanted to finish that statement. It was morbid, but in a way exactly what she didn't know she had wanted until now. A way to know who her friend really was. "Thank you."

"I had time, and her memories took a few days to fade." Hiccup admitted. "I'd have written from the lives of the other dragons I accidentally took from Vithvarandi, but only Stormfly's memories remained at all after I had Beryl get rid of the other bodies. Probably because I had been forced to use hers before, and actually saw them beforehand."

Astrid wasn't sure what he meant, but there was logic behind his explanation, so she didn't question it.

"So there's that." Hiccup absently counted off on his fingers. "Spark wanted to see Berk, I had news and books to deliver... I think that's it."

Astrid sighed, her mood dropping like a rock. "So you're leaving. Again." It was no surprise, not really, and he could never have remained here, but it still hurt a little.

"Looks like. There just isn't a place for us here." Hiccup looked over at Beryl. "And besides, I have one more promise to keep."

"Hiccup, what happened?" Astrid spoke what had been bothering her, the last year. "Everything seemed fine, the future was pretty well set, and then it all went to Hel."

"I wish I knew." Hiccup chuckled darkly. "We all had our little innocent hopes. Stoick wanted me to be chief someday, I wanted to better understand Beryl, to fit into the new world I'd accidentally created. Beryl, he was happy, or would be if I would stop being in danger all the time. Such innocent hopes, all in all."

"And..."

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be." Hiccup suggested. "Reality is, well, twisted. That's the best way I can think of to describe this. The world is not a perfect place, and we're all left to figure out how to be happy with it."

"Have you?" Astrid asked carefully.

"Yes, I think so." Hiccup replied. "Not entirely happy. But as close as someone with a past like mine can get. Have you?"

"I'm getting there," Astrid admitted. "As you said, it's not perfect."

"It never is. It's funny, really." Hiccup mused. "I have everything I could have asked for. I can understand dragons, turn into a Night Fury at will. But the tradeoff..."

"Losing your father, your tribe?"

"That. But there's something more. I lost Flint, long before this started. Living with that is the price."

"Uh... you lost me there," Astrid admitted. Who was Flint?

Hiccup blushed. "Oh, right. Yeah, you wouldn't really know about that. Eh, you'll figure it out. It's in the book, the one about Ember." He seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"Right. Ember was the orange Night Fury, right?" Astrid struggled to recall that night. "The one..."

"It's hard to explain. But I am Ember, now." Hiccup said, running a hand through his hair. "His memories are mine, mine are his. We merged, somewhat. So everything in that book... it happened to me, was me."

"Hiccup... I'm not going to question that." Astrid shrugged, her cloak rippling in the light breeze. "Thor knows I don't understand what happened to you. Live a nice life, I guess."

"And you, Astrid." Hiccup saluted her mockingly. "Chief Astrid. Wait, did they give you a title?"

"Yes. Astrid the Steadfast." That had involved a standoff with one of the more hostile tribes of the archipelago, but the full story was a long one, one Hiccup didn't need to know. It had been back when she was still new at everything chiefing entailed, and she may have gone a bit overboard. It was a bit embarrassing, even if she had gotten a title out of it.

"It suits you." Hiccup eyed her mockingly, his expression light. "Such the image of a Viking chief. You need to gain a few hundred pounds for it to be accurate. And maybe a beard."

"And there's the old Hiccup sarcasm. I was beginning to wonder where that had gone."

Hiccup smiled and responded seriously. "Actually, that's Ember's influence. I don't feel the need to cover discomfort with sarcasm. Now it's just for fun."

"You're serious." Astrid eyed Hiccup, searching for some physical sign that he had changed. "What's that like?"

"Indescribable. Even Vithvarandi didn't get it. Of course, her two personalities fought each other, and one was apparently subjugated and locked away by the other. So she wasn't exactly in a position to understand."

"Why am I not surprised you at some point tried to describe it to her?"

"At the time, fighting wasn't an option." Hiccup defended himself, waving his hands for emphasis. "If I had attacked, people would have died. Besides, she wanted to talk first, in some half-planned attempt to get me to stop hunting her."

"Clearly, it didn't work."

"Yeah, clearly." Hiccup turned. "Have a nice life, Astrid. Berk is the future, of that I'm sure. Make it a good one."

"What will you do now?" Astrid asked. Really, she was curious.

"I have one last promise to keep." Hiccup said quietly. "And a lot of lost time to make up for. Berk is the future. We'll just fade into the past. After everything that's happened, I think the three of us deserve some peace."

"You do." Astrid agreed. "Goodbye, Hiccup."

"Goodbye, Astrid." Hiccup smiled sadly. Then he held his hands out, the blue flames she remembered from long ago flooding from his palms. After a moment the orange Fury she remembered stood in his place, far more scarred than before, but with eyes that were bright and alert.

The three Night Furies bounded into the sky, soaring, and after they had gained some height, flipping, tagging each other with their wings. They flew away from Berk, their game carrying them fast and far.

Astrid watched until they were two dark specks and one bright in the distance. Then she turned and began the long walk back to the village. She didn't mind that. It gave her time to think, time to consider what to tell everyone else.

By the time she reached the village proper, she knew what to do. However, Fishlegs and Gobber found her first. Fishlegs looked crestfallen, and Gobber was smirking knowingly.

"You were right, Gobber," Astrid confirmed. "I didn't need a translator."

"Astrid, what happened?!" Fishlegs gasped. "I keep hearing about a golden Night Fury from the dragons, and I can't find him!"

"It's too late Fishlegs, they're gone. He was just passing through." Astrid didn't like the disappointed look on Fishlegs' face, so she handed him the book titled 'Ember'. "But he left a few things for us. That one's for the village."

"What is it?" Fishlegs had a look of concentration on his face. "Astrid, there's clearly more to this. Dragons don't deliver books." His face lit up, a look Astrid knew as inspiration striking.

"Hold that thought, Fishlegs." Astrid grinned. "This stays between us three, but the golden Night Fury was here with two others. They brought news. Vithvarandi is dead."

"I knew he'd do it eventually." Gobber asserted. "But they're gone?"

"He didn't seem to want to stay long," Astrid said. "They flew off together. Three..."

Wait...

"Oh, and apparently Toothless regrew his tailfin at some point. I just realized that." How had she missed that?

After that, they went back to business as usual. Fishlegs read the book of Ember, and then put it into the Great Hall, for any to look at.

That night, after a hard day of chiefing, Astrid sat down and contemplated the unadorned cover of her friend's life. She would read it. But for the moment, she was content to sit and remember one long gone. Nostalgia was not something she as a Viking in the prime of her life should be feeling, but it was there nonetheless.

She really did hope Hiccup and Toothless had good lives. They deserved that much. She opened the book and began to read. To take one final look at her long-gone friend.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **And thus ends** _ **Innocent Hopes, Twisted Realities.**_ **A strange combination of horror, psychology, and adventure, with a tinge of family thrown in. It actually isn't as horror-centric as I had originally envisioned, though the early chapters more than deserve the title. Dark, yes, but horror? Not so much, in the later chapters. I hope you as readers enjoyed it anyway, not too disappointed in the latter half of the book. Anyway, this is how it ends.**

 **Or, this is how it** _ **would**_ **end, if I was done with this universe. But I'm not. The epilogue will come on Thursday, and the final chapter, a little bonus, on Saturday, the same day the prologue of** _ **When Nothing Remains**_ **posts. This story is not yet over, not by a long shot.**

 **Oh, and this seems like a good time to thank** _ **toothlessgolfer,**_ **the beta-reader for this series. He's been a great help in many ways, and has definitely increased the quality of both this and the sequel immensely.**


	21. Epilogue

_**Author's Note:**_ **There is only a two-day wait before the questions this epilogue raises will be answered, so make your predictions quickly.**

"How close are we, again?" Spark asked seriously. "I have forgotten." He dropped to land on the rock outcropping that rose from the forest around them, quickly folding his wings. "My wings still aren't the strongest."

That still bothered Ember. Despite the success of the stitches in helping his son's tattered wings heal at all, they had never returned to their previous strength, and Spark was forced to set down more often solely to rest them. Spark sometimes spoke of the scars aching, feeling like they were tearing back open. It wasn't that bad, and the scars remained just memories of a past injury, but it did limit their travel. Maybe that too would fade with enough time.

Not that any of them begrudged him the extra rest stops. The trip was one of months anyway. A few extra breaks from flight weren't going to make a noticeable difference.

Besides... "We should get there sometime tomorrow." He vaguely recognized these woods and the mountains in the distance. Past the mountains, the woods extended for a way and then terminated at the edge of a very familiar peninsula, one isolated from human and dragon alike, a safe place. The place of his hatching.

He was going home. Hopefully, his Sire and Dam were still there. They were the only ones left of his parents, on either side. It had been a long time. So many years, years spent wandering, raising children. Years spent dead.

He hoped they were still there, still happy and safe. Maybe with other children, though from what he knew now, that seemed unlikely.

At the worst, he hoped they were still alive. They would still be in the prime of their lives, given how long Furies lived, but so many things could have gone wrong, be they human, dragon, or pure accident.

That night, as they settled down in a sheltered nook near the base of those final mountains, he couldn't sleep.

Beryl sat up with him, understanding some little of Ember's emotions. Eventually, he spoke, softly as to not disturb Spark, who had managed to find sleep. "What are they like?"

"Kind, caring. My Sire, Herb, is practical and wise. Dam, Thorn, is strong and sure, but vulnerable, in a way. She didn't like me leaving, though she encouraged it." Ember whined softly. "I broke my promise. It's been decades. I never came back."

"I'm sorry, are you saying you broke your promise... because you happened to be either busy raising me and Spark, or dead?" Beryl asked curiously. "Seems to me you came as soon as you could. It wasn't your fault that happened to be a little longer than you would have liked."

"I know, but it still feels like my fault," Ember admitted. "But I still can't wait to see them." He might be clinging to the only part of his past besides Beryl and Spark that might still be around, but he couldn't help it.

They passed the night like that, though Ember woke up to the realization that he'd found at least some sleep, and that Beryl's wing was over him.

It was moments like these that he appreciated the way Beryl managed to maintain treating him both as a friend and as his Sire. It was a subtle balance, but one both of them had found in the many months of travel here. Spark was easy, as his older son didn't know Hiccup, and had no prior attachments. Beryl might have resorted to one or the other, and in doing so lost one of the facets of their relationship, but they had somehow found a middle ground as impossible to define as his own mental status.

That was how these things tended to work. It seemed a quirk of the world that the more important something was, the harder it was to explain to outsiders. He and his sons set off, flying towards the end of the journey. Eventually, the peninsula came into view, looking just as it had so many years ago.

Ember felt a wave of nostalgia and something akin to fear, a foreboding that made him want to drag the approach out, or anything that would prolong the time before the hypothetical reunion.

"We should approach on foot," Ember suggested as they flew. "Grab some prey, bring it with us."

Beryl and Spark, not aware of his ulterior motives, readily agreed, and the three of them dropped into the shaded forest Ember recalled from memory.

"Call if you find tracks," Spark called out, as normal, and they spread out, looking for that first trace that would give them something to follow, something to hunt. For Ember, every step brought back old memories, ones he had not forgotten, but still as potent as if he was just now recovering them.

By degrees the three Furies spread out, losing sight but not track of each other, knowing vaguely where the others were. Ember had just run across the tracks of a small doe when an angry snarl rang through the trees, followed by a surprised and pained yelp. Beryl.

Terrible scenarios ran through his mind, each taunting his bad decisions. They didn't know this place now, no matter how fondly he remembered it, and time passing had ensured his complacency was a mistake. There could be hostile dragons, dragon hunters, or any number of unknown dangers here, and he had treated it like the safe haven of decades past! He berated himself even as he slalomed past trees and leaped towards the sounds, ready to ensure any who had attacked Beryl died.

The scene he found was not one of conflict, no longer anyway. Beryl and Spark were staring wide-eyed at a very familiar older Fury, one with a pale green scale color Ember remembered fondly. Beryl was bleeding, his chest sporting a new wound, not too deep but definitely not some simple scratch. Ember noticed his Sire's claws stained with blood.

Herb turned, hearing his intentionally audible approach, his posture suggesting he was expecting a fight. Both of them froze when Herb made eye contact.

Ember spoke first, his voice light, sarcastic. "I thought you always taught me not to hunt dragons." Apparently, he hadn't entirely lost that particular habit, despite what he had told Astrid all those months ago.

Herb's eyes widened.

No, Ember realized with a jolt, _eye_. His Sire had a long scar running vertically across the left side of his head, and one eye was clouded and dull. It tore at his heart, seeing that. What had happened?

He didn't realize he has asked that horrified question aloud until Herb closed both eyes briefly, head bowed. "That is a long story."

"This is a day for those." Beryl supplied carefully. "Sire of our Sire." Dragons didn't really have a phrase for grandfathers or grandmothers like humans did.

"Truly?" Herb turned his head, glancing at the two Furies.

Ember snorted softly. "Do you get many random visiting Furies?"

"More than we expected," Herb replied solemnly. "But again, a story for later." He walked slowly over, looking at Ember up close. "You have grown, and gained many scars."

"Life was not entirely kind," Ember replied just as solemnly. "But I finally came back, to keep as much of my promise as I can."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I promised to bring my mate and children to visit," Ember said sadly. "But my mate is gone."

Herb stiffened, before abruptly leaning in and setting his head on Ember's shoulder, a gesture of comfort similar to what Ember had done with Spark. "I see your path has been hard."

"Harder than you imagine," Ember replied honestly.

"But you have returned." Herb comforted softly. "We had worried you were gone. Your Dam more than me, though we both did at times."

"I am sorry," Ember replied.

"Sire. We can continue the hunt, and bring the food..." Beryl supplied, glancing over at Herb. "To the place you told us is the den."

"That would be good," Herb added. "I was out here for the same reason."

"Go. Hunt well and fast." Ember agreed. "I expect nothing but the best, you two. No half-grown deer!"

Spark smirked while Beryl straight-out laughed. "Like the one you brought in last month?"

"Yes. Beat that." Ember challenged, knowing full well it had been an embarrassingly small catch. He grinned as both of his sons set off into the forest at a lope, golden glint and black void disappearing among the shadows and sun of the woods.

"So, what happened?" Ember inquired once they were gone, as he and Herb began walking casually towards home. "Beryl is not one to attack on sight. If he was, I'd be dead twice over." Once as Hiccup, and once as Ember, when Vithvarandi had been using the body.

"It was my doing, I am afraid. I saw a strange dragon and reacted." Herb admitted, not looking Ember in the eye. "I have not had the best experiences with an unknown Fury showing up unannounced."

"Is that how..?"

"It is, among many other things. My eye was not even close to the worst part." Herb groaned softly, a sound of remembered pain and regret. "But that is too sad a tale for today."

"I think today will be a day for sad tales, Sire," Ember replied carefully. "Much of mine is. And it seems much of yours will be as well."

"No." Herb snarled. "I refuse to let this day be tainted by that. Those can be told later. Please, if your past is so sad, do not share it yet. I would hope you and your sons have happy things enough to fill a single day's conversation."

"Yes, we do," Ember admitted. "Though far less than you'd think." Spending a good part of his children's life dead would have that limiting effect.

They walked in silence for a while, eventually emerging and taking to the air, approaching the den he remembered so well. Just like in memory, Dam was relaxing outside, sleeping in the sun at the moment. He and Herb set down in front of her.

The look on Thorn's face as Herb gently woke her worried Ember. She seemed... duller, if only slightly. As if something had been broken and not fully healed in her heart. A part of him hoped his long absence had not caused that pain, and another part hoped it had so that his return could fix it.

Her eyes brightened euphorically when she turned and saw Ember. Through the joyful reunion, Ember watched carefully. That dullness was subtle, and his Dam ignored it in her happiness, but it did not fade completely. Something else was causing it.

The festivities of the day were simple and joyful. Food was provided by his sons, who took turns going out with Herb, getting to know the Sire of their Sire as they provided for the rest. Spark, Beryl, and even Ember regaled Thorn and Herb with lighter tales provided by their lives, many coming from the journey to this place, the time after the defeat of Vithvarandi.

When night fell, Beryl began a slightly riskier tale. That of the No-scaled-not-prey nest, and those who eventually became friends with dragons. Ember had told him of Herb's request, so Beryl skipped over how exactly he had been shot down, and where Spark and Ember had been.

His tale entranced both Herb and Thorn, as alien to their lives as it was. By the time Beryl had concluded with the eventual return to health of the one he called a friend, the night was late.

Herb sat outside with Ember, watching the coast. Thorn, Spark, and Beryl were asleep, worn out by the day of revelry.

"Son, there is much we both have not explained." Herb began. He sounded almost sorry, pained by the admission.

"Agreed. But today was not the time for that. You were right." Ember said confidently. Less confidently, he continued with the question that bothered him most. "Is Dam... okay?"

Herb whined, a sound Ember could only recall hearing a few times. "It is not a physical wound that hurts her. Those heal, or they do not."

"I had gathered as much," Ember admitted. "I have wounds on my soul as well."

"You do. But your Dam's is of a different kind." Herb growled. "One I could have prevented, had I been stronger."

It struck Ember that his Sire was about to explain. There was something about this moment. It was a tipping point, an ending, and a beginning. His Sire's voice did not sound as if speaking of an old occurrence, long over, but of something still ongoing. Ember had been at peace, these last few months. But once his Sire told the story, he was pretty sure that peace would be gone.

Innocent hopes, twisted reality. The way of his life. Ember vowed to himself, then and there, that he would do whatever it took to right any wrong present here. Maybe his life was not meant to be one of peace. His tattered soul had been allowed to heal a little. Now was time for the next trauma, the next calamity.

"Speak." Ember requested. He did not know what he would hear, what had occurred. But ignorance was not bliss, and facing twisted reality head-on was the only way he'd ever acquire even temporary peace.

His Sire spoke, sparing no details. The tale filled him with wrath, sorrow, pity. And at the end, purpose. He had been correct, though this was not something he was going to fight. It was something he was going to have to deal with. The irony was palpable. Flint had already slain the one responsible. Not that it had helped his Dam and Sire here, years before that day, that kill. The damage had been done.

"Where is she now?" He asked quietly.

"She visits every once in a while. She has grown... distant. I do not blame her." Herb looked down, his dull eye as downcast as his good one. "I cannot blame her."

"I do," Ember growled. "But that can wait. When will my sister next visit?"

 _ **Author's Note:**_ **And so it begins. Notice how I didn't say what had happened, letting Ember know but not the reader? It can be deduced fairly easily, and I am indeed going there. Yes, the sequel will be just as dark, as you can probably already tell.**


	22. Bonus: Alternate Ending

**_Author's Note:_** **When Nothing Remains is out. That is the sequel to this. You can find it on my profile, of course. But that is not the only reason this final chapter exists.**

 **And now, for something not quite as dark. While looking over chapter nineteen, toothlessgolfer noted a different way things could have played out, given how this world worked. It doesn't fit with the sequel at all, but it was an amazing idea I'm somewhat surprised never occurred to me given that I had already written in an otherwise red herring that would be essential to it, and would be a straight-up happier end if one only considered the first book. It was so amazing, in fact, that I immediately wrote it out. So, for any of those who would like to see a happy ending to the story, or at least somewhat happy, here is a non-canon alternative ending to the story. Note that the only thing I needed to change prior to chapter nineteen for this to work is that Vithvarandi didn't even bother using the last canister she had. This breaks her character's chain of events quite a bit, but we can ignore that as this is non-canon.**

 _Vithvarandi leaped on top of Spark, clawing into his wings and kicking at his head, scrabbling to reach his throat even as she was blocked by her overshot, tearing into his wings. It was a scene worse than any nightmare Ember could have conjured up, the twisted depths of his mind incapable of contemplating such an image. It accomplished what no amount of reason, logic, or knowledge could. He prepared to leap and dislodge Vithvarandi before she succeeded in cutting his son's throat._

 _Because no matter how much she looked like Flint, the image of her attacking Spark dispelled any resemblance in Ember's mind. The two could not coexist. It dispelled any reluctance he had to attack, though he knew his actions in doing so would haunt him for the rest of his life._

Ember leaped forward and struck, slashing at Vithvarandi's throat, knowing that he had to strike quickly. The feeling of his claws cutting into her was horrible, and the strangled yowl that faded as she died even more so. He barely registered her ranting in her last body, barely even noticed as Beryl struck her down. The fact that he had just killed his mate, in body if not mind, was eating away at him.

He knew he had the ability to shift to her form, to peruse her memories. That felt more wrong than he could bear, and did not tempt him at all. In an effort to stem the horrible grief, he shifted to his human body.

That did not help, but he had more important things to worry about for the moment, things he could help with. Spark.

Even as he realized that his son's wings could possibly be fixed, even as he painstakingly sewed the shreds back together, Ember mourned his mate as if he had just lost her again. He cried silently as he worked.

At one point near the end, Beryl managed to revive Jacin, who walked over, pained and burned by the boiling water. "She is dead?"

"She is." Ember managed to nod towards the corpse, which in itself was the undeniable truth. "Are you..?"

Jacin grimaced, holding up a hand. "No."

Ember faltered, seeing the terrible injury. The hand had been burned far worse than the rest of her and looked almost like cooked meat. It was also broken terribly, though he wasn't sure how that had happened.

Jacin saw the question in his eyes. "I landed on it, after the water knocked me off my feet."

"Will it..?" Ember knew the answer to that question.

"Are you kidding?!" Jacin yelled. "This is never going to heal! I'll have to get it removed!" She shook the limp, mangled and burned mess of a hand. "I don't even care!"

"What?" That was a bit odd.

"My sister is gone." Jacin sat down, her voice lowering to something dark. "We always stuck together. She was all I had. Our parents died in a fire." She looked up. "I really don't care about my hand. What's the point?"

Something struck at Ember, a terrible thought that he should have banished immediately. But it lingered, linked as it was to a foreign emotion. Hope. "You have nothing."

"Nothing," Jacin confirmed. "I wanted her to kill me," she nodded to Vithvarandi's corpse, "I think. I really don't care anymore."

"I could..." Could he really? Was this right, morally acceptable?

Yes. if he and his existence was, then this was.

"I can't give you your hand back, or your sister." He would not lie, as Vithvarandi had. "But I can give you a new life."

"I'll never be able to get her back," Jacin muttered angrily. "And you cannot replace her."

"I do not want to replace her." Gods, this felt so wrong, but it would be worth it if Jacin accepted willingly. "But I can give you a new mind, a new life entirely. You don't have to stay with this one."

Jacin looked up at him. "You make no sense."

Ember gestured to himself. "My human form also has nothing left. I lost friends, family, my home." He could not go back, and that was as good as losing them. "My dragon form has sons and a life that is not totally gone, though he also has lost much. I can stand the one because I have the other."

Jacin blinked, her face unreadable. She cradled her hand, the one that would need to be removed. "What are you saying?"

"I can give you something you need, and you can give me something I need." Ember shuddered. "You would remain yourself, but your self would expand to include another. The way you are now, if you wanted you could just let her take over, let her loves, fears, and hopes become your own." It made sense. For him, he merged. Vithvarandi dominated. Jacin, having nothing she valued in this life, could let the other personality in, and let it take over. She would truly be happier that way. "I am offering to let you become someone else."

"How?" Jacin did not sound averse to the idea. She really didn't want to live, not as she was.

"You will become like me." Ember's eyes drifted toward the ground between them. "I gave a dead dragon a new life by accident. For you, we can do it intentionally. She did not deserve to die, and is missed terribly. You do not wish to live as you are, and have no one left."

"Who?" Jacin sounded almost hopeful. "Who would I be?"

"My mate, Flint, was killed by Vithvarandi." Ember could not meet Jacin's eyes as he spelled it out. "I killed Vithvarandi in that form, and now have Flint's body and memories, though that sickens me. There is one chance at this ability left in existence, and I know where it is, how to use it. It is not guaranteed that you will survive, but if you do, you can take that form from me, and become her. She has sons, a mate who mourns her passing, and a life to lead, one that was stolen from her." He felt immensely selfish... until he glanced up, and saw the hopeful expressions on Ember and Spark's faces. He was not doing this only for himself. It was best for all involved.

Jacin's face hardened. "I will become her."

"I think. Or your personalities might merge, as mine did. Either is acceptable, and better than what you have now." Ember shook his head sadly. "I knew it was a long shot, but I had to offer you this option." Of course she wouldn't want to, why did he think-

"Deal."

Ember froze. "What? Really?" He sounded immensely hopeful, and immensely nervous.

"I don't want to live like this, and you really do miss her." Jacin stood, and offered her good hand. "So, deal." Her eyes were dead, and it was clear she was doing this because she did not want to live, and had decided to give someone else a chance at happiness in passing.

That was enough.

O-O-O-O-O

First, they waited while Jacin returned to her village and had the mangled hand removed, blaming the dragons that carried her off. It was lucky Jacin needed the hand removed anyway. Ember vaguely recalled Vithvarandi citing a physically missing piece of oneself as necessary to survive the process.

Then again, with the way Jacin was now, she might have just gotten a hand removed anyway if he told her it was a part of the process. She really didn't seem to care about anything anymore. That was sad, but Ember held to the thought that they were helping her, if in a strange way. This was good for her too, though right now she really just wanted to die.

The trip to Vithvarandi's island was passed in silence. None of them really knew how to interact with the human that was going to try and bring their loved one back to life, and it almost felt wrong to hope until it was done. It was not a sure thing.

The island was still as desolate and hostile as before, but this time it was almost welcoming in its hostility. This was opposition Ember could deal with. It almost felt approving, despite the hostility, as if recognizing what he came for, and acknowledging that he was in the right. That was simple imagination run wild, but it did help.

The tunnels were just as cramped, odd, and twisted as before, but Ember moved confidently. When they reached the intersection, he paused.

Jacin, who was holding a burning branch as he had so long before, pointed to the tunnel with the word 'sacrifice' written over it. "Is that where we are going?" she did not sound at all alarmed by the idea.

"No. I do not actually know what is down there." Ember shivered. "I do not want to find out." He moved to the correct path.

They made it to the central chamber that had featured in Ember's nightmares without incident. Ember shifted his form and moved to the far wall, straining to recall exactly which part of the wall Vithvarandi had moved.

"This one." Beryl walked up and tapped a panel slightly lower than Ember had been checking. "It's hollow, you can hear." The tapping did have a different sound to it.

With some little difficulty, Ember found the hidden latch and moved it aside. There, in a dark hollow, sat a canister, just like the one that had changed him. It was filled with white liquid, almost the color of milk, though his had been blue and translucent. Hopefully that didn't mean anything.

He was hesitant to touch it. The last one had injected him without warning. "Here." He stepped back and gestured to the hole. "You pick it up and take it out."

"Then what?" Jacin was already moving across the chamber to do just that. Ember stepped aside as she passed him.

"It should just do its job when you pick it up," he said carefully. "It did for me."

Jacin reached in and grabbed the canister with her remaining hand, the arm ending in a stump by her side. She had barely gotten it clear of the hollow when she quietly gasped, going rigid. The white liquid drained away.

It had begun. Ember recalled exactly what he had gone through, and quickly moved to Jacin, catching her just as she began to fall, the canister clattering to the stone floor. She writhed in his arms, moaning. That painful disorientation would pass soon enough.

It did, though Jacin did not seem much happier. Then her hand began to glow, and she screamed. That same three-sided square appeared to have been burned into her palm.

But she only had one hand. Even as Ember made that realization, Jacin shakily removed the bandages on her stump and revealed another mark directly across it. Ouch. That had probably hurt quite a bit more than the one on her hand.

But now it was done. They waited a few minutes, just to be sure.

"Something in my head is starting to hurt," Jacin remarked shortly afterward. "Like it is pulling at me."

"That is what we were waiting for." Ember stood, and offered Jacin one of his knives. "Time to bring a person back to life."

"What do I do?" Jacin noted that Spark and Beryl had moved back.

"I will turn into a dragon with grey eyes." Ember inhaled deeply. That part would be disturbing, but it had to be done, and he could probably hold off the memories. He had been able to do so when Beryl had helped him rid himself of the other bodies he had taken in battle. "Kill her as quickly and as cleanly as you can, and do not take your hand off of the knife." They only had one chance.

"I will." Jacin hefted the weapon. "Will it hurt you?" She only sounded slightly concerned.

Ember grinned sadly. "I've died before." With that, he shifted, unable to bear the anticipation. His entire mind focused, even as the flames receded, on not living any of his mate's memories. She would be back soon, and he did not want to invade her self.

Before Jacin could strike, he did receive one small impression, despite his best efforts. It was her love for him and their sons. Then he felt the knife enter his throat, and the feeling faded, replaced by the momentary panic that came with temporary death like this. He returned in his human form, to give one last set of instructions.

Jacin dropped the knife, staring at the pile of ash. "That's it?"

"Not quite. Imagine the dragon you just saw, and put that image where you felt the pulling." Ember took the knife and cleaned his mate's blood off of it as he spoke. "You will live her life in a moment. It will change you." How much remained to be seen.

"Good. I do not want to remain like this." Jacin closed her eyes. "I hope you all get what you want."

A brilliant white fire rushed out of Jacin's palm and stump, engulfing her entire body. When it receded, Flint's body slumped to the ground.

Ember felt his heart leap back into his chest, but his enthusiasm was tempered by fear. He shifted forms even as he rushed to her, nosing at her worriedly when he reached her fallen form.

She groaned, lifting her head and opening her eyes, grey pupils flecked with silver staring at him.

A moment of silence. Beryl and Spark were standing completely still. It seemed they were too shocked, despite knowing what would happen, to react.

"Ember..." Flint began.

"Flint?" He could not expect it immediately, Ember and Hiccup had taken months to merge. But she might respond to the name.

"Yes, actually." She shocked him by leaping up and tackling him, licking frantically. "I'm back!"

Ember struggled with confusion. "But..." What was happening in her head?

Flint stepped off of him, looking at the ground. "She really does not want to live. She is embracing my memories whole-heartedly, voluntarily removing her own from control. She is not gone, but she is content to ignore that part of herself and allow me my life." Flint whined. "I can only hope she never regrets that decision."

That made some little sense. "So you are..."

"Flint, in body and mind, thanks to the sacrifices of a No-scaled-not-prey. Jacin is here, but she is not here, so to speak." Flint purred, looking over at her sons. "So get over here, you two!"

Spark rushed over, and Beryl followed. The two embraced their Dam, who laughed, a sound both sad and happy at the same time.

Ember knew that feeling. "We did not get to watch them grow up."

"No, but they did anyway." Flint stepped back, so that she could look at her entire family at the same time. "And we did not miss their entire lives."

"No, we did not." Ember purred. "There is much to catch you up on."

"There probably is," Flint admitted readily. "From what I understand, you managed to cheat death, with the help of your new other half and our son."

"Luck, but yes." Ember laughed happily. "And now you have done the same." He realized something. "You will not mind, right?"

"What, that you are slightly different?" Flint's voice was teasing. "That you have a No-scaled-not-prey in your head, one that actually wants to live?"

"Dam, that's not right!" Beryl sounded offended on Ember's behalf. "Both parts of him are important!"

"I know, silly," Flint laughed, nuzzling Beryl. "I am teasing." She looked at Ember. "Both parts of you are equally welcome. I see no true difference."

Well, Spark had done the same. Ember supposed it wasn't that surprising, but he felt quite a bit of relief regardless. "Thank you."

"Says the one who somehow brought his mate back from death simply because he could," Flint retorted. "I should thank you. And Jacin, but I am her, so to speak, so that is a bit difficult."

"Maybe we should do all of this explaining somewhere else," Spark ventured. "This place is not a good one."

"Very true." Ember looked around. "We can go somewhere else, somewhere close but not here."

"Or, we can get moving now!" Flint barked authoritatively, making everyone jump. "We are late!"

"What could we possibly be late for?" Ember almost whined, he was so confused.

"We were supposed to go visit your Sire and Dam a decade ago!" Flint exclaimed. "And we were already late then!"

There was a moment of silence. Then everyone began laughing, though it was true.

As they left the chamber, Beryl leading the way, Flint nudged Ember and whispered in his ear. "And I still want a girl."

"Of course," Ember replied without thought, easily picking up where they had left off a decade ago. "But shouldn't it wait until after we visit my Sire and Dam?"

"We can compromise," Flint growled seductively. "It can wait until we get there. I am sure your parents will want to spend plenty of time with their son's children, and we do not need to be there for all of that time."

"Deal." Ember purred happily. Despite everything, it seemed he could pick up where he had left off. One old promise to keep, and a new one just made. He thought about the two books he had recently written, the ones on his human form. "I have a short side-trip to make first though. We probably won't ever come back out this way."

 ** _Author's Note:_** **And thus chapter twenty happens, only very minorly different, and they go to visit Herb and Thorn. In this version, Ember's sister, hinted at in the epilogue, is not an issue, a happy second child of Herb and Thorn, simply because if I'm giving Ember this happy ending, I'm definitely not putting him through the events of the second book. He gets to stay happy in this version. Honestly, if I did not have the second book and its plot, which I believe is better than this ending, and if this ending did not somewhat spoil the melancholy end I wanted to have, I might have made this the canon ending. But it does not, and it doesn't fit the story** **tonally. So, this remains non-canon. (Also, I didn't come up with the basic idea here, toothlessgolfer did, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have made it the** **real end.)**

 **Update: This final chapter was posted on January 12th, 2019. As of March 10th, 2019, this story passed 10,000 views.**


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